The Longest Year
by Greystar
Summary: A completely unexpected turn of events puts a whole new dynamic into Daria’s senior year at Lawndale High, and puts her relationship with Tom into a whole new light. CH 8 now up!
1. Empirical Evidence

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Synopsis: While waiting for the results of a pregnancy test, Daria and Jane recall the events of the previous two months. Warning : Reader discretion is advised

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Author's Forward: I am rating the following story PG-13 for content. The subject matter deals with teen pregnancy. I am not an advocate of teen pregnancy, and firmly believe that common sense should prevail in such cases. However, real life being what it is, this is not always the case.

The following story was written for entertainment purposes only, and _should not _be taken as educational material. I do not claim that the "technical" aspects of my story are even remotely accurate. If you have any questions, go to a responsible adult knowledgeable in the appropriate areas.

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Other Notes: The author assumes that the reader is familiar with "Daria" and the characters therein. This story takes place over the six to eight week period concurrent with the episodes "Sappy Anniversary," "Fat Like Me," and "Camp Fear."

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Legal Drek: Daria and her cohorts are property of MTV and Viacom.

This story is Copyright April 14 2003.

Daria

in

empirical evidence 

By Greystar

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daria stared down at the small plastic device she held in her hand, waiting to see what it foretold for her future. Her eyebrows knit together as she swallowed for what seemed to be the sixtieth time that minute. Her heart and stomach seemed to be fighting for a place inside her throat. She was acutely aware of an egg shaped timer ticking rapidly away on the on top of the television set. It might as well have been counting down to the end of the world.

_This can't be happening_, one part of her mind was shouting at the top of it's lungs. _This can't be happening! Not to me! And now of all times!_

The logical and analytical parts of her mind knew, of course, that it had all actually happened some weeks ago. It all started fairly innocently, really. All they were going to do was watch an old movie and scarf Quinn's candy . . .

~~~~~~

"Happy non-anniversary," Tom had said to her, handing her a chocolate from one of the heart-shaped boxes they had purloined from Quinn.

"Happy non-anniversary to you," Daria had replied, handing tom a chocolate from the box she held on her lap.

"Are you sure Quinn won't mind?" Tom asked as he exchanged the candy he held for the one Daria offered.

"Nah," she replied. "Celebrating anniversaries was her idea."

She popped the piece of chocolate into her mouth, savoring the caramel center of the candy and favoring Tom with a Mona Lisa smile. Tom returned it with a soft smile of his own. Every now and then, Jane had commented how she could get lost in those green eyes of his, and now Daria could see it was true. She blushed ever so slightly at that random thought.

_Too damn much sugar_, she thought. _Making my brain go fuzzy._

Absent mindedly, she brought her hand up to her lips and removed some chocolate from the tip of her thumb. Tom's smile turned mischievous as he reached out and took Daria's hand in his before she could remove the chocolate form her fingertip.

"What are you doing?" Daria asked as Tom gently pulled her hand towards him.

"Being helpful," Tom said as he brought her finger to his lips. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I weren't?"

Daria winced slightly, turning a little red and closing her eyes as Tom gently removed the chocolate from Daria's fingertip under the guise of a kiss. She felt the tip of his tongue glide over the tip of her finger, aiding in the procedure, and flinched slightly.

"Tom, that's gross," Daria said as he released her hand. Actually, it tickled, but there was no way she would say that out loud.

"Really? I thought that I was being romantic." Tom said, lifting his hand to his mouth to remove the chocolate from his own thumb. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to be unpleasant."

"Well, it was," Daria said with her own smirk. "And I'll prove it to you." 

She reached out and took Tom's hand before he could protest - not that he would have to begin with. Not taking her eyes off his, she gently pulled his thumb to her lips and, in the same manner Tom had, placed hers over the small smear of chocolate on his skin. The tip of her tongue tickled the tip of Tom's thumb between her lips, actually savoring the taste of the chocolate against his skin for a moment, before breaking the kiss.

"See?" Daria asked, releasing his hand.

"Yeah, that was pretty gross," he said.

"Disgusting."

"Revolting."

"Gave me the willies."

"I liked it too," Tom whispered.

Tom took the box from his lap and set it aside, turning and leaning into Daria and starting a long, gentle kiss. Daria responded by taking Tom's face in her hands and kissing back in reply. After a long moment, the two finally came up for air.

"Your folks aren't going to come walking in are they?" Tom asked quietly, not wanting something to wreck the mood.

"Mom's working late at the firm, Dad's working late trying to make up the business he lost working at that dot-com place, and Quinn's out on a date," Daria replied. "I figure that we've got the place to ourselves till about eleven or so."

"Cool," Tom said as he took the box from Daria's lap and put it on the coffee table in front of them.

Tom reached around her waist and pulled Daria in a little closer and began to kiss her once again. She reached behind him, placing her hand on the back of his head, her other arm going around his waist to steady herself. Daria absently noticed how his breath tickled her cheek, the softness of his hair between her fingers, and the slight taste of the chocolates they had been eating on his lips. Daria decided that she could get entirely too used to this, if she let herself.

Tom was a little surprised at Daria's reactions. He knew her well enough to know that she didn't let her passions out at the drop of a hat. Her passions usually came out in the form of their discussions about movies, books, and various other intellectual pursuits. Oh, sure they did the usual boyfriend-girlfriend things too: held hands, smooched in public, a little quick necking once or twice when they thought no one was looking. There was one steamy make-out session at the beginning of their relationship as well. Maybe this was going to turn into another. Though he'd be loathe to admit it to anyone other than his bathroom mirror, Daria had Jane beat in the kissing department, hands down.

Tom started to sit back, not releasing Daria from his embrace and pulling her with him as he moved. Daria hesitated for a second, but reacted quickly enough not to get dumped off of the sofa. She tucked one knee underneath herself and slung the other leg over Tom's lap, so she was sitting on his knees. Her other knee had bumped the box on the sofa, spilling it onto the floor, but neither of them noticed. She wasn't willing to break the kiss just yet, vaguely curious to see what he was leading up to.

_Whoa! Dammit, Daria, slow down,_ she started shouting to herself in her mind as she felt Tom's hand began sliding around to the front of her jacket. _You don't need to add this to the pot right now! We just got this stupid anniversary thing straightened out! All this will do is cause more problems down the road. There's graduation to think about and college and. . .and . . . Wow. Oh, wow. A little more to the right . . .WHOA HOLD IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

"Whoa, Tom, hold it," Daria panted, breaking the kiss and stopping Tom's hand from exploring her chest with her own.

"You want I should stop?" Tom asked, a little out of breath himself.

"Uh . . ." _Yes I want you to stop and get your hand off my chest and get your ass the hell out of my house so I can board myself up in my room and figure out where the hell all of this is coming from!!_ "Look, Tom, I don't want to spoil the mood, but maybe we're going a little fast here?"

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, removing his hand. He had a good idea exactly what she meant, but he also knew that Daria would need to put it into words for herself.

"Well," Daria said and paused again. She couldn't believe she was about to bring this up now. "I never really asked Jane, but . . . Did you and she . . .?"

"What? How far did we go?" Tom asked, interlacing his fingers behind the small of Daria's back. He had to wonder if they were comparing notes on him or something.

"Well . . . yeah," Daria said, looking a little guilty.

_Oh, Lord, they _are _comparing notes!_ Tom thought with a chuckle.

"Well, Jane and I did do some experimenting," Tom said. "And we have seen each other in less clothing than would be considered appropriate by most of polite society. And we did talk about trying some things from time to time. And we've --"

"I get straight A's in Biology, Tom," Daria said in her classic deadpan. "I don't need _all_ the gory details."

"Sorry," Tom chuckled again. "What I'm trying to say is Jane and I have never gone beyond a certain point, and I've always tried to be a perfect gentleman about what we did do. We've talked about it, but we both decided that we wanted to see where our relationship took us."

"So you two have never . . ?" Daria started to ask, but couldn't finish.

"No," Tom said with a shake of his head.

"And you're not sorry that you never . . ?"

"No," Tom said with another shake of his head, then thought _Tom, you lie like an oriental rug._

"And you wouldn't be sorry if we never . . ?"

"No," Tom answered, then continued to answer the next questions that he knew was coming hard on the heels of his answer. "I wouldn't be, because it meant that we weren't ready for it."

"Oh . . . Okay," Daria muttered, looking slightly down at him from her perch on his knees.

"If you don't mind my asking, what brought this on?" Tom asked.

"Well, it's been kind of rolling around in the back of my mind for a while now," Daria said, starting to look a little embarrassed. She was also starting to feel a little ridiculous, holding a conversation like this while sitting on his lap. She began to turn red. "You kind of confirmed it when you said that you and Jane have done a little . . . well, experimentation . . . and I was always pretty sure that you and she didn't just sit around watching Sick Sad World all the time. And, since we really haven't done much more in our relationship than, uh, make out, I . . . Well . . . I have some _theoretical _evidence of certain things, but . . ."

"And you wanted some _empirical _evidence as well?" Tom asked, smiling some at Daria's blush. He always thought she was cute when she blushed. "The kind that you find through . . . experimentation?"

Daria just nodded.

"What would you like to do?" Tom asked.

Daria slid back off of Tom's knees and stood up, breaking the grip around her waist easily. She took Tom's hands in hers and gently pulled him to his feet.

"Come up to my room?"

"Lead on."

~~~~~~

Jane walked in and sat down on her bed next to Daria. She took in the look on her friend's face and racked her brain for something to say. The last time she had seen Daria this stressed out was over the last week or so of school last year, when she and Tom had split up and he had gotten together with Daria. It had taken Jane and Daria a big chunk of the summer to work through that one, primarily because Jane was spending the summer at an art colony, and Daria was "volunteered" to work at Mr. O'Neill's day camp. But, after everyone had a few weeks to calm down, they had gotten together and worked it through, with a hefty amount of thanks going to Trent and his mediocre song writing skills.

Jane reached out and took Daria's hand in her own, closing her fingers around the white knuckled grip that Daria had around the pinkish-white gizmo that she held. That thing held an answer that stood to radically change a couple of lives around Lawndale. She could feel Daria's hand shaking in her grip.

"Hey, kid," Jane said quietly to her nervous and scared friend. "What ever the answer is, it's going to be okay. Okay?"

Daria didn't answer, but the shaking in her hand subsided some.

"Not too much longer now," Jane said, glancing at the egg timer on top of the television.

~~~~~~

Jane had started noticing something screwy was going on about the same time that Sandi Griffin was out of school for a while because she had taken a tumble down the stairs in her home and broken her leg. She and Daria had gone over to Pizza King for their usual after school slice. Daria had been acting a little evasive on the subject of Tom over the last couple of days. True, talking about Tom was still a sore subject at times, but Jane had always made a good sounding board for Daria when she had a problem that she couldn't think her way through, and she wasn't about to stop now.

"So," Jane said as the two of them sat down with their sodas and Jane pulled a couple of boxes of candy out of her backpack and placed them on the table. "You've been ducking the subject of yours and Tom's little anniversary situation pretty neatly the last couple of days. When are you gonna tell me what happened? We're not going to have to incinerate body parts in my Mom's kiln, now are we?"

"No, it's just --" Daria started to say, but was interrupted by Kevin, Joey, Jamie, and Jeffy nosily walking past their table to take up a booth only a few feet away. "Dammit. Too many ears around here."

"Huh?"

"Quinn's three stooges," Daria said with a nod in their direction as she poured out her box of ZooZoo Drops onto the table. "I just don't want this conversation getting back to her, or getting spread all over the school."

"Well, we'll just have to kill some time then till they leave," Jane said.

"Yeah, I guess," Daria said, looking down at the candy. "Bet you I've got more ZooZoo Drops than you have Juicy Joes.

"Not possible," Jane said, pouring out her own box of candy on the counter.

"Bet you five bucks," Daria said with a smirk.

"You're on," Jane said as she started counting.

It took twenty minutes of time killing, while Kevin amused the Three Js with pepperoni slices on his eyes and various other idiotic antics as they ate their pizza. Daria and Jane slowly ate their candy and made various bets on the four boys tomfoolery. Jane was down ten dollars by the time the four of them left.

"About damned time," Jane said as she watched them head out the restaurant door. "So, talk already, woman! What happened?"

"Well, Tom and I talked it over, and we came to the conclusion that remembering anniversaries is nice and all, but you don't have to go overboard with celebrating them," Daria said as she pushed the remaining ZooZoo Drops around in a small pile.

"Uh-huh, nice sentiment, I have to agree," Jane said, popping a Juicy Joe into her mouth. "So then what happened?"

"Well, everyone was gone the next night, so we swiped a couple of Quinn's candy boxes and we were going to watch a movie, but we, uh . . ." Daria stopped and turned a little red around her Mona Lisa smile. "We started feeding each other the chocolates instead."

"Oh, how cute!" Jane exclaimed with a grin so wide the space shuttle could have landed on it with room to spare. "For a twisted little cruller, you've got a gooey sweet center too!"

"A little louder, Jane. I don't think they heard you over in Oakwood!" Daria threw a couple of her candies across the table, causing Jane to flinch and block with her hands as she laughed.

"Next thing you're going to be telling be is that you two started making out on the couch and your folks walked in!" Jane said, still laughing.

"Well, you're partly right," Daria said, turning as red as Jane's jacket. "But nobody came home till almost midnight, and they wouldn't have caught us anyway, we were up in my room.

"_Oop!!_" Daria covered her mouth with both hands when she realized what she had just blurted out.

"What??" Jane asked, slack jawed and wide eyed.

"Oh, God, I can't believe I'm telling you this," Daria said, putting her head on the table for a moment. When she looked up, a ZooZoo Drop was stuck in her bangs, and she tugged it out with a wince. "We went up to my room . . ."

"And?" Jane prompted.

"And . . ."

"_And??"_ Jane prompted, getting impatient. "Dammit! I hate it when you do this!"

"And we were . . . experimenting," Daria finally finished with a fierce blush.

" 'Experimenting?' " Jane asked, her grin seemingly getting wider. "As in you found your Dad's old chemistry set and went out and blew the door off of the garage kind of 'experimenting?' Or as in put two teenagers in a room with a gallon of boiling hormones and see what gets cooked up kind of 'experimenting?' "

"The second one," Daria mumbled, hiding her face in her hands.

"Well, good God, girl! We just might get you to join the human race yet!" Jane almost crowed.

The subject of what transpired between Daria and Tom on their six month anniversary had never really came up again until almost a month later. Daria had just scored yet another ten dollars off of Jane, betting on DeMartino's next insult. Jane had bet on 'imbeciles', and Daria had taken 'morons.' Jane thought that it should have been a draw when DeMartino came out with 'imbecilic morons,' but Daria argued that imbecilic was an adjective to morons, and Jane couldn't find anything to contradict that argument.

"You know, these little bets have cost you forty clams so far," Daria was saying as they walked passed Quinn and Tiffany in the hall. "If I had a self-image, I'd think you were bribing me to be your friend."

"Bet you the whole forty I'm not," Jane retorted. She'd have to win a bet soon, here. This was starting to get expensive.

"Nice try," Daria replied.

"Wait," Jane said with a sudden shake of her head and a confused look. That was the fourth reference to seafood that she had made since that morning. " 'Clams?' "

"Ooh," Daria groaned as Stacy Rowe walked passed them and started in on someone bad shoe choices with Quinn and Tiffany. "I swear, I've had seafood on the brain all day for some reason. It's getting ridiculous."

"How come?" Jane asked. "I didn't think you liked sea food all that much."

"I don't, but I am getting well and truly sick of lasagna at home," Daria replied.

"There's always pizza," Jane chipperly suggested.

"I don't know," Daria said, putting a hand on her stomach. "The last couple of days, pizza seems to have lost it's allure too."

"Are you okay?" Jane asked as they arrived at their lockers.

"I'll live," Daria said as she opened her locker. "Tell you what, let's skip lunch and hit that fish fry place across the street."

"Okay."

It was easy enough to get out of school during the lunch period, since a fair number of kids hit the restaurants in the small strip mall. A few minutes later, they were sitting at their favorite spot outside the library munching on a large order of breaded whitefish, popcorn shrimp, and fries.

"So what brought on this sudden craving for seafood?" Jane asked, scooping up some cocktail sauce on a bit of shrimp.

"I just needed to avoid the lunch room for a while," Daria replied. "That place is starting to make me nauseous."

"Oh, okay, I'm convinced," Jane replied in a tone of voice that indicate exactly the opposite. She popped the shrimp into her mouth, chewed three times, and swallowed. "Come on, Daria. What's on your mind?"

"Jane," Daria said with a sigh. "Can I ask you something very personal?"

"Of course."

"Very, _very_ personal?"

_God, here we go again. I hate it when she does this,_ Jane thought. "What, Daria?"

"Have you ever been . . . well, late?" Daria asked quietly, hiding her embarrassment by taking a bite of her piece of whitefish.

"You mean late for class?" Jane asked. When Daria shook her head, Jane knew exactly what she was talking about. "Well, yeah. Last summer, but I was pretty stressed out there for a while too."

"Mmm." Daria said around a mouthful of fish.

"You know, you should be talking to your mother about something like this, right?" Jane asked.

"I wish. She got pulled into this great big case her firm's been working on and she's been pulling sixteen hour days again," Daria said after she swallowed.

"I won't even suggest your dad," Jane said. "What about your Aunt Amy?"

"Wish I could, she's been out of touch for about a week," Daria said. "Her last e-mail said something about New York, but I haven't been able to get a hold of her."

"So, why would you be late?" Jane asked, resigning herself to the position she was in.

"Well, remember that I told you that Tom and I had done some . . . experimenting?" Daria asked.

"Yeah, your six month anniversary," Jane said, popping another shrimp, and smirking to herself.

"Yeah, well," Daria muttered, nudging the small pile of fries on her napkin. "We did a little more than . . . _just_ experiment."

"Oh," Jane said, popping yet another shrimp into her mouth.

Then the light dawned.

"Wait one pea pickin' minute," Jane said as her chewing slowed. "You mean you and Tom . . . did --"

"The 'Big Experiment,' " Daria said, turning fiercely red. "Yeah."

Jane's head whipped back and forth as she quickly scanned the quad around them, making sure that none of the school gossips were within ear shot. If the wrong ears got wind of this, it would spread through Lawndale High like a wildfire through a drought ridden forest. Thankfully, it was all clear.

"Daria!! That's great!" Jane exclaimed as quietly as she could, leaning in towards her friend. Her voice was a mixture of shock, disbelief, and amazement. Then a thought struck her. "Please tell me you used protection!"

"Yes, yes, of course we used protection!" Daria said, turning slightly red. "The damn thing was _neon pink_. I could have killed him!"

Jane burst out laughing, and nearly choked on her shrimp in the process. Jane waved off Daria's look of concern and washed down the remaining sea food with a slug of cola. It took a few moments before Jane was able to breath again.

"So it was neon pink? So what? So what are you worried about?" Jane said, catching her breath. Then another thought struck her. "It didn't break or something?"

"No no, it didn't break, at least not that we could tell," Daria said.

"Daria, you need to relax," Jane said, placing a hand on her friends shoulder. "You've had your first roll in the hay, with hopefully many more to follow. The you-know-what worked the way it was supposed to, so who cares what color it was!"

Daria just looked at her lap.

"So," Jane asked quietly, a smirk evident her voice, as well as on her face. "Did you guys repeat the Big Experiment at all since then? You know, it's the hallmark of a good researcher to repeat her experiments and compare the results."

"_Jane!_" Daria whispered, mortified that someone would hear them. She speared Jane with a dirty look, before it softened in to an embarrassed smirk. "Well, a couple of times since then. It's not like we do it every time we're together."

"Are they still neon pink?"

"_Jane!!_"

"Okay, okay!" Jane backed off under the harsh glare that Daria was blasting her with. "So what's the problem?"

"Well, what if Tom's only in this for the, um, physical aspects of the relationship now?" Daria asked. "I mean we still talk about a lot of things, but sometimes I wonder what he really thinks about after we, well, you know."

"Wait. You're worried about what Tom thinks of you since your relationship has gotten physically intimate?" Jane asked, and got a nod in reply. "Well, there's why! You've probably been wound tighter than your mother on her worst day for three weeks or more, so it's no wonder you're late. Give yourself a couple of days to chill out, talk to Tom, and everything will be fine."

"Well, I suppose that would make sense," Daria replied, picking up her cola. Jane knew that she would be looking that information up the first chance she got.

"Either way, there's definitely one good thing that will come out of this," Jane said with a smirk.

"What's that?" Daria asked, starting to take a long drink from her straw.

"I can now officially never say that you've never had 'it' in you," Jane said with a deadpan.

It looked to Jane that Daria must have passed half her soda through her nose. Pity most of it had landed on the fries. They weren't half bad.

~~~~~~

Jane had been right, Daria remembered. Once she had convinced her self that nothing was wrong and relaxed some, things once again returned to their normal timetable, albeit delayed a few days. Daria still amazed herself, from time to time, that as smart as she was, she could overlook something that relatively simple. She had confirmed it, of course, first by cutting out of Ms. Barch's science class and having a quick conversation with the school nurse, then by referring to a couple of medical sites on the internet.

Her conversation with Tom a couple of nights later had also gone pretty much as she had expected, after her talk with Jane. He had assured her that, just because their relationship had advanced in the sexual department, it didn't mean that they were losing any ground in the intellectual side of their relationship. The two had talked long into the night about that, as well as the other things that they usually ended up talking about. Daria remembered thinking that it would have been a simple enough thing to bring that particular subject up in her room that night, but she admittedly had other things on her mind.

_Of course it would have been just as simple to keep your skirt down where it belongs to begin with,_ Daria chided herself. _Then you wouldn't be in this mess._

But part of her refused to believe that she was actually in _any_ mess until she saw some kind of proof, one way or the other. And in her hand, wrapped as it was in Jane's, she would soon be holding that proof.

"Dammit, this is taking too long," Daria said quietly.

"Daria, we just have to be patient," Jane replied.

"What if we screwed up and this thing doesn't work?" Daria asked, then thought '_We?' God, I'm acting like Jane has a stake in this too. It'd be easy enough for her to find a new best friend. It's not like she's . . .she's. . . _

"Hey, we both read the instructions four times. Pee on the stick, put it in the cover, and wait five minutes," Jane said. "I'm pretty sure we didn't make a mistake," 

"_We_ didn't. _I_ did," Daria said blackly. "I should have punched him in the mouth instead of kissing him on it."

"Hey now, none of that," Jane said, putting her free arm around Daria's shoulders. "Yes, Tom's a schmuck, but I think he'll do the right thing when the chips are down."

Daria just sat and looked at the Early Pregnancy Test device clenched in her hand for a long minute.

"Dammit, this is taking to long," Daria said again.

"Patience, kid," Jane said, squeezing her friend's shoulders. "Only a few more minutes."

~~~~~~

A couple of weeks after Daria and Jane's conversation out on the quad, Daria had found herself in the kitchen in search of a snack. After a thorough search of the cupboards and refrigerator, Daria could find nothing that looked even remotely appetizing. In fact, a fair portion of what was there gave her a bit of a knot in her stomach, until she came across a box of chocolate ice cream. That was the only thing that her stomach didn't rebel at the thought of eating, which surprised her a little. Deciding against a bowl, she simply fished a spoon out of the silverware drawer, sat down at the table, and began to eat.

Before she had managed to eat more than a couple of spoonfuls, Quinn came walking in with the telephone perched on her shoulder. Ignoring Daria, she went straight to the refrigerator and pulled out a plate of carrot sticks.

"Well, of course I don't mind that you're looking for new members, Stacy," Quinn was saying as she went over to the island and began slicing them. "Who were you thinking of?"

Daria looked on in silence as her sister listened to the roster of Fashion Club hopefuls.

"You can't let Gina into the Fashion Club. Her teeth are thick," Quinn said, then listened for a second. "Heidi?! With the clogs?!"

_Okay, that's obviously a negative_, Daria thought as she continued eating.

"Gee, I guess there really aren't any suitable girls at school. Maybe the club should break up," Quinn mused. Evidently that wasn't the right thing to say to Stacy, but it did get the wheels in Daria's mind turning. "Stacy, stop crying. Stacy...! "

Either Quinn didn't want to keep up the conversation with Stacy crying her eyes out, or Stacy decided that it was too painful a subject, because Quinn hung up the telephone with a sigh a moment later. 

"Ice cream out of the carton?" Quinn asked as she walked over to the table. "You're going to end up like Sandi!"

"I suppose your friendship is over now that she can't squeeze into a size zero," Daria said as Quinn put her plate down.

"Daria, I am not shallow." Quinn said, putting her hands on her hips. "Besides, it's not like Sandi's gotten ugly or anything."

_Gotcha,_ Daria thought as an idea sprang to mind.

"Wow, I've really misjudged you," Daria said in a faux impressed tone. "I never realized you'd be willing to sacrifice your own popularity for the sake of friendship."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you and I both know how society discriminates against the overweight, even to the point of shunning them," Daria said. "The old Quinn might even have done it herself. But this new Quinn? Willing to stick by her friend no matter how heavy she gets, even if it costs you your own status? Wow. Simply wow."

"Um... yeah," Quinn said slowly, looking not a little guilty. That look told Daria that she had Quinn right where she wanted her.

"Some more shallow friend might try to make Sandi lose weight so she could rejoin the Fashion Club and return life to normal, but not you," Daria continued, pressing home for the proverbial kill. "You accept her as she is. Kudos to you, Quinn Morgendorffer."

"Uh... thanks!" Quinn said as a plan of her own formed, just as Daria expected it would. "Got to go!"

Quinn hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She had a few things to get together before heading over to Sandi's. She knew how to get the Fashion Club back on its feet again. It would take some time, and some work convincing Sandi, but she could pull it off.

_Wait a second_, Quinn thought as she got to the door of her bedroom. _Daria's allergic to milk fat. Why is she eating ice cream?_

Quinn quickly collected a her back pack, spare house keys, and a few other things before heading back down stairs. She was going to tell Daria that she was heading off to Sandi's, but when she started to turn the corner to the kitchen, she came to an abrupt halt. Daria was still at the table, talking on the phone to someone and eating her ice cream. Quinn, unnoticed, watched in fascinated disgust as Daria picked up one of the abandon carrot pieces, swiped it through the ice cream, and popped the whole thing in her mouth.

_EEWWW!_ Quinn thought with a sickened wince as she backed up around the corner and headed for the front door instead. She left the house quickly, before the thought of what she'd just saw gave her away.

_Why would Daria be eating a disgusting combination like that!? _Quinn thought as she headed down the sidewalk. _The only people who eat stuff like that are gross-out geeks and pregnant people._

Quinn came to an screeching halt as she realized she had put "Daria" and "pregnant" together in the same thought. She looked back at the house for a moment.

"Oh God, Quinn, get real!" Quinn said to herself as she turned again and continued on. She had more important things to think about than something that ridiculous.

Another week or two would pass before the subject of Tom and Daria's adventures in experimentation would come up yet again, and rather suddenly. Daria and Jane had been sitting in O'Neill's class listening to his lecture on modern day remakes of classic Greek and Roman legends. Daria's stomach had been bothering her all day, not that she'd been trying to let on, but Jane had noticed that Daria's color was definitely off. She had also seen Daria put her hand to her mouth a couple of times that morning in order to conceal a burp that Jane would get a whiff of, much to her chagrin.

"...Now, take for example, the legends of the Greek god Hercules, and television series 'Hercules: The Legendary Journeys,' " O'Neill babbled on. "How do the more modern representations compare to the original legends, and the messages they deliver?"

"Oooo, that Kevin Sorbo is so dreamy," Brittany was heard to comment, absently twirling her hair around her finger.

"Aww, thanks babe," Kevin Thompson replied, clueless as usual. "But you know my last name's Thompson."

"Not you, that Hercules guy on T.V," Brittany said, giving Kevin a goofy look.

"Twenty bucks says O'Neill's 'mystified,' " Jane whispered to Daria, continuing their ongoing betting contest.

"My money's on 'befuddled,' " Daria replied with a sidelong glance at Jane.

"Oh, yeah!" Kevin exclaimed, finally getting a couple of brain cells firing. "He's got that cool space ship, and that hot robot babe! You mean _he's _the guy those geek dudes were talkin' about? Cool!"

"Oh, Kevin," O'Neill said with a mixture of disappointment and confusion. "I really must say that your almost criminal lack of an ability to absorb anything from this class, even after all this time, has left me completely . . ."

"Say it," Daria whispered.

"Starts with an 'm,' " Jane whispered.

" . . . Stymied!" O'Neill finished.

"Damn," Daria and Jane whispered simultaneously.

Jane looked over at Daria as she once again put her hand to her mouth, to try and stifle a belch. Jane cocked an eyebrow at her friend as she raised her other hand.

"Kevin, you and I need to talk after -- Yes, Daria?" O'Neill said, noticing her hand.

"Mr. O'Neill, can I be excused," Daria asked from behind her hand. "I don't feel well, all of a sudden."

"Oh dear, of course, Daria!" O'Neill said as Daria stood up.

"Thank yo-_oop!_" Daria sprinted for the door at a pace that Jane was rather impressed by, for about a tenth of a second.

"Daria?" Jane said as her friend beat a hasty exit. She then grabbed her friend's backpack, as well as her own, and took off out of the door after her.

"Oh, my," O'Neill said, watching the two girls run from the room. At that moment the bell rang and brought him back to more important matters. "Oh, yes. Now, Kevin, we really need to talk."

Jane caught up to Daria as she was finishing emptying the contents of her stomach into one of the Girl's room commodes. Jane heard the telltale sound of flushing, and saw the soles of Daria's boots poking out from under the door of the last stall in line.

"Daria's boots? When Daria's finished tossing her cookies, would you let her know I'm out here?" Jane said as she walked up.

"Ha ha, Jane," Daria quipped back from behind the door. She sounded a little hoarse.

"You okay there, amiga?" Jane asked as she watched Daria's boots stand up.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Daria replied as she opened the door and headed for the sinks.

"Oh, yeah, I just figured you missed your morning puke session at home, and decided to get caught up here in school," Jane said as she followed her friend, setting her back pack on the shelf above the sinks. "I brought your pack."

"Thanks," Daria said as she turned on the water. She leaned over and scooped a couple of handfuls of water into her mouth, sloshed it around, and spit, then repeated the procedure. After the fourth repetition, she decided that the taste in her mouth was back to something approaching normal. Then she reached into her pack and pulled out a bottle of pink stuff.

"What's that for?" Jane asked as Daria took a swig straight from the bottle.

"My stomach's been upset for that last few days, " Daria said, recapping the bottle and replacing it in her pack. "Either school's giving me an ulcer, or it's my Dad's cooking. He got a new book on Malaysian Cuisine, if it can be called that."

"Now, those are two reasons that I can actually believe," Jane said, leaning against the sink. "However, I don't think either of them have a damn thing to do with why you just tossed your breakfast. Your folks know?"

"It hasn't been that bad," Daria said, starting to wash her hands. "This is the first time I've thrown up, though."

"So, you and Tom been doing the 'Big Experiment' again?" Jane asked with an evil little smirk. "Thinking about going out and finding some more 'laboratory' space?"

"No!" Daria immediately replied, then smirked a little. "Well, yeah. Not that it's any of your business."

"Hey, you were stressing yourself silly over it before," Jane said as she turned on the water and started to wash her hands for lack of anything better to do. "I was just wondering if you were doing the same thing over it now."

"Well, I'm not," Daria said as she hit the soap dispenser with the heel of her hand. "Besides, we haven't, uh, recreated the Big Experiment for the last few days because my stomach's been acting up, so that has nothing to do with it. Besides, we've found . . . other things to do to keep our minds occupied."

"You mean he can do _other _things besides go at it like a horny rabbit?" Jane asked, looking at Daria in the mirror with feigned disbelief. "Damn, if he's _that _talented, I shoulda jumped that boy when I had the chance!"

"Now I really _am_ going to be sick," Daria said as they both started to chuckle.

Both girls clammed up quick and concentrated on their hands as Stacy Rowe stormed in to the bathroom and took the sink furthest from them. She yanked her pack partway off, snatched a brush from it, and flipped it back onto her shoulder. Then she violently grabbed one of her pigtails and started yanking the brush through the end. All the while she was grumbling and growling to herself. It was obvious to Daria and Jane that she was pissed about something.

"Do you think we should tell her it's easier to speak if you open your mouth?" Jane asked as she dried her hands.

"Stacy, what time is the Fashion Club meeting today?" Tiffany asked as she walked up to the sink

"There is no meeting," Stacy grumbled back.

O_h ho, here we go,_ Jane thought. _Here's where Daria and I settle this little bet, and I got eighty big ones riding on this!_

"How co--" Tiffany started to ask, but was cut off by Stacy.

"How come?!" Stacy fired back, clearly having had enough. "Because I can't take it anymore. I'm sick of doing all the work while you just sit there. I tried my best, and even if it wasn't as good as Sandi's or Quinn's, a chain is only as strong as its weakest round thingy, and you refused to lift one freakin' finger!"

_Go, Stacy, go!_ Jane silently cheered behind a deadpan look.

"I'm through running the Fashion Club all by myself while you stare... in the mirror... and talk... about yourself... and I - I - _I quit!"_

"Hmm, maybe I should quit, too," Tiffany said slowly, not getting it as usual.

_Cha-Ching!_

Stacy shrieked in frustration and stormed out of the bathroom. Tiffany watched her go as though nothing had happened, then she pulled a pair of silver tweezers out of her handbag, looked in the mirror, and began plucking her eyebrows.

"You saw it here first," Jane said triumphantly. "The Fashion Club is dead. Pay me my eighty smackers."

Daria had to admit that it certainly looked that way. She pulled out her money and, as she counted the eighty dollars out, she began to figure a way to win it back.

It turned out that she didn't need to. Two minutes later, they were walking down the corridor towards lunch as Jane counted her winnings, where they came across a small crowd of students gathered in the middle of the hall.

"Don't look now, but I think the guy with the balloon animals is back," Daria said, noticing the two girls who were at the center of the small group

"It's Sandi!" Stacy was heard to exclaim. "And she's... _thin!"_

Spotting Quinn and a newly slimmed down Sandi in the center of the crowd, Jane tossed her winnings in the air with a groan and let them flutter to the floor at Daria's feet.

_I give up,_ Jane thought in disgust.

It was the week that Daria's invitation to the Camp Grizzly reunion had arrived that Daria had finally decided to talk to Tom about some of the things that had been happening that she felt he ought to know about. They had planned on an evening of pizza and television before she, along with Quinn, was whisked off to Camp Grizzly by Trent and Jane, who were going to spend a day in the sticks trying to relight Trent's creative fire. Meantime, the two were killing a little time by driving around in Tom's beat up Jag before hitting Pizza King.

"Actually, camp was a lot like school," Daria was saying. "Simply add blisters and the occasional bout of poison ivy, and replace an empty headed football star with a sadistic dictator wannabe and there's really very little difference. And, like high school, they organize reunions so that you can remember the humiliation with those that heaped it upon you."

"Wow," Tom said. "My folks always took us up to the cove for a month with my aunt. Doesn't really compare to something like that. But then, watching my aunt try to play matchmaker for Elsie and then watching them clash over it has an entertainment value all it's own."

"At least your sister isn't bringing home a different date every other night, like Quinn is," Daria replied, looking out the passenger side window

"There is that," Tom said, looking over.

"Mmm," was all Daria said in return.

"Daria, is something wrong?" Tom asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's obvious that you're not thrilled about going back to your old summer camp, but you've been acting something else is bothering you ever since I picked you up," Tom said.

_Damn, he's getting to know me too well,_ Daria thought, not answering.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tom asked.

"Not really, but . . ." Daria shifted in her seat so she could face Tom. "This is not going to be the easiest subject in the world to talk about with a guy. Are you sure that you want to hear this before we eat?"

"Daria," Tom said patiently. "You can talk to me about anything. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, well," Daria said, than hesitated for a second as Tom waited patiently. "You know how we've started getting more, um, physical in the last couple of months?"

"Daria," Tom said with a smile. "I told you before. I don't think any less of our relationship just because we've started getting 'physical.' "

"That's not it," Daria said. "When we had that conversation, I didn't tell you that I was, well . . . acoupledayslateformyperiod."

"What?" Tom asked, not sure he heard right.

"Please don't make me say it again," Daria replied with a plaintive look.

"Oooo-kay," Tom said with a cocked eyebrow.

"Anyway, it finally came after I relaxed a couple of days, so there's nothing to worry about," Daria assured him. "What I'm trying to get at is that I'm not very used to this intimacy thing. I, uh . . ."

"Are you saying that you want me to lay off for a while?" Tom asked as they pulled into a space in the Pizza King parking lot.

"Well, not completely," Daria replied, blushing slightly. "But I do think that we should, well, wait a couple of weeks before we go all the way again."

"I can live with that," Tom said with a small smile.

"Thanks," Daria said, leaning over to give Tom a quick kiss, which he met her halfway on.

"You know," Tom said as they sat there for a moment, foreheads touching. "I said when we started being physical that I was willing to go as fast or as slow as you wanted to. That still applies. I don't want you to be uncomfortable with the prospect of being intimate with someone."

"Thanks, Tom," Daria said, before they kissed again.

It was that weekend that Jane finally gave voice to a suspicion that Daria's mysterious stomach ailment had planted in her mind. It had come up when Jane and Trent were driving Daria back from the reunion, which they had delivered her and Quinn out to that morning. Thankfully, Quinn had found a ride back with someone else that evening. That left Daria and Jane in relative peace and privacy with Trent, who was in the process of composing the next Mystik Spiral hit, thanks to an old couple and their backwoods country store.

On the way back, Daria's stomach had started acting up again, but she figured that it had more to do with Skip Stevens' lousy hamburgers than anything else. Trent wanted to stop by the country store again, but a couple of not so thinly veiled threats from Jane convinced him to continue on to someplace a little more modern to pick up gas and provisions on the way back. As Trent refueled the Tank_, _Daria and Jane ducked into the restroom of the highway side mini mall that the gas station was part of. Jane remembered thinking that the place was surprisingly clean, considering.

"Dammit," Daria muttered from one of the restroom stalls as Jane washed up.

"What is it?" Jane asked. "Someone put 'For a Good Time Call Quinn Morgendorffer' on the wall before you could?"

"No, I'm --" Daria mumbled something that Jane couldn't make out.

"What was that?" Jane asked as Daria exited the stall.

"I said I'm late again," Daria repeated, looking embarrassed and angry at the same time.

"What, again?" Jane asked, certain seeds of familiarity with the situation growing in the back of her memory. She'd been through this once before, long before she met Daria, Jane was certain of it. The pieces were just now beginning to fall into place. "You and Tom performed the horizontal mambo before we left on this little trip, didn't you?"

"Gee, Jane, thank you for asking," Daria grumbled, heading for the sink. She was starting to wish that Jane would let the subject drop. "We got together for a few hours, but we didn't do anything, alright?"

Daria turned on the water and began to wash her hands, while looking at Jane in the mirror.

"Since the last time I was late, I went back and did some figuring," Daria said as she washed her hands. "It should have started yesterday and it . . . Ohboy _urp_!"

Daria clamped her hands over her mouth for a second, then vomited in the sink.

Jane supported her friend as best as she could, keeping Daria's hair out of the way, and grabbing her glasses before they fell into the vile mess in the sink. The putrid smell in the room was immediately forgotten as those seeds of a memory suddenly burst into full bloom -- with all the subtlety of an atomic bomb.

_Summer!_ Jane immediately remembered, her stomach dropping into her boots. _Oh, hellfire and damnation! **That's **why this seems so familiar all of a sudden! Summer had a false period the first month she was pregnant with Adrian! And Daria was late last month, but had a period, and is late again this month, and . . . Oh my god, she could be --_

"Son of a _bitch!_" Jane exclaimed out loud.

"Jeez, Jane, I'm sorry," Daria said crossly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "If this bothers you, you can leave you know."

"No no no, Daria, that's not it," Jane said, trying to explain as Daria moved to a clean sink. "When you said you were late again, I ..It sparked a memory."

"What memory is that?" Daria asked, washing her mouth out with cold water.

"My sister Summer," Jane started to explain as she handed Daria back her glasses. 

"What?" Daria asked when Jane didn't continue.

"When she was pregnant with my nephew Adrian," Jane said slowly, not wanting to think what she was thinking. "The first month of the pregnancy, she had a false period. She didn't find out she was pregnant until she'd missed the next one by almost two and a half weeks."

"Wait," Daria said, shaking her head and taking a step backwards. "You can't be suggesting that . . ."

"Believe me, Daria, I wish I wasn't but it fits," Jane said.

"But we used a condom!" Daria replied, a little fear evident in her voice. "The damn thing was neon pink, for God's sake! I put . . . Omigod I'm not _even _going to go _there!_"

"Wait . . . " Jane said, another memory coming back in a slightly smaller mushroom cloud. "This neon pink condom you used the first time wouldn't have been in a gold wrapper, would it?"

"Yeah," Daria gulped. "Why?"

"Because," Jane said, screwing her eyes shut at the memory. "The night Tom and I met at McGrundy's and left you with Trent, we went to Cluster Burger and started joking around. He bet me dinner that I wouldn't go into the Men's room and buy a condom from the machine in there. He didn't think I would do it, but I did it, and he put it in his wallet."

When she opened her eyes and looked at Daria, her friend looked like she didn't know whether to cry or scream.

"Oh God! You mean --?" Daria stammered.

"That condom was probably over a year old," Jane said morosely. Jane leaned back against the bathroom wall and thumped the back of her head against it a couple of times. _Why the hell didn't I remember this a month ago?_

"I could be . . ." Daria couldn't finish the sentence. "It could have . . ."

Jane just nodded.

"Oh God. What do I do?" Daria asked Jane helplessly.

~~~~~~

Jane had been the more level headed one of the pair. The two girls went from the restrooms to the pharmacy and purchased a home pregnancy test kit. If the cashier there had any thoughts as to why two eighteen year old girls would be getting such a thing, he wisely kept those thoughts to himself. They stuffed the kit into a plain brown bag so as not to arouse Trent's suspicions, then the two of them piled back into the Tank and all three of them returned to Lawndale. To say that the tension filled silence that dominated the rest of the trip back was stifling would have been a monumental understatement.

Trent dropped Jane and Daria off at the Lane house, and continued into town in order to return the van to Max, and pick up his own car. Daria and Jane immediately locked themselves in Jane's room and poured over the instructions and various bits and pieces in the test kit. It was indeed fairly simple. Urinate on the end of the test device and slide it into the cover, then wait approximately five minutes. When the time is up, check the clear box. Plus sign means pregnant. Minus sign means not.

The problem was that Daria was so nervous and scared that she couldn't have gone to the bathroom if she wanted to. To that end, Jane went down to the kitchen and brought up a pitcher of juice and rubbed Daria's shoulders in an effort to get her to relax, while Daria sipped Kool-aid in an effort to calm her nerves and kick start her bladder. Half an hour, and three glasses of juice later, Daria finally had to go. It was a good thing too, Jane's hands were getting tired.

Now they both sat, hands around the E.P.T. device, waiting for the egg timer to run out and science to tell them . . . something.

"I can't be pregnant, Jane," Daria said, her voice shaking. "I don't care what this freaking test says, I _can't _be pregnant."

"Daria, it's going to be okay," Jane said, hugging her friend.

"Like hell it is. Do you know what my Dad's going to do if I'm pregnant?" Daria asked. "Assuming he doesn't have a _massive _heart attack this time, or a stroke, he's going to kill Tom and lock me up somewhere till I'm old and gray. And that's only if he doesn't disown me outright. Mom will probably sue the Sloanes for every penny they've got and, if she gets to Tom before Dad does, she'll probably put you, me, and him up against a wall and have us shot or something. And if they don't, I'll definitely show him what these boots are best used for."

"Why me?" Jane asked. "I didn't do anything."

"Guilt by association. You went out with Tom first, so you should have been the one to get knocked up," Daria replied sourly. She leaned into Jane, putting her head on Jane's shoulder. "I can't do this, Jane."

"Yeah, you can," Jane said. "I'll help, and so will Trent, and Tom will, too."

"Mom won't give him a choice," Daria said. "Dammit, Jane, I wanted to sit in my Montana cabin and read and write and thumb my nose at the idiots that make up normal society. I don't want to change diapers for four years. I can't stand kids. I couldn't stand kids when I was a kid! Hell, I'm _still_ a kid!"

"Daria, you are not going to go through this alone, I promise." Jane said, pulling her friend close. Daria and Jane just closed their eyes and waited. 

__

CHRRRING!! the timer finally went.

"_AAH!!"_ both girls jumped slightly at the sudden sound. It took them a moment to get their breath back.

"I guess it's time to see," Daria said. She looked down at the device in their hands, silently wishing that she could wake up from this nightmare.

"I guess," Jane said, looking down at their hands as well. "How about I go first, hmm?"

"Okay," Daria said quietly. It was a silly question for Jane to ask, since she was holding Daria's hand closed around the pinkish white E.P.T device, but it made Daria feel better. Jane slowly opened her fingers an moved her hand so that she held Daria's in her open palm.

"I guess it's your turn now," Jane said to Daria.

"I guess," Daria replied.

Daria she tried to open her hand, but couldn't quite get her fingers to work. She took a deep shuddering breath.

"Ya know, Jane," Daria said, her voice cracking. "I keep thinking that this is some big, terrifying dream and any minute I'm going to wake up."

"It's okay, Daria," Jane said, tearing up a little her self. She had never seen Daria so scared.

"Okay," Daria said, taking a one last deep breath and letting it out. "Okay. Here we go . ."

Very slowly, very shakily, Daria unclenched her fingers, revealing the small clear window on the testing device, and the answer it held.

[+]

Daria bit her lip, her eyes almost as wide as her glasses. Her brain refused to process the information that her eyes were sending to it. Daria's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but no sound came out. The only things she was conscious of were the sound of blood rushing in her ears and the suddenly enormous weight of the small plastic device in her hand.

Jane looked at Daria as, after a long minute, Daria finally tore her eyes of the testing device and slowly turned to face her. For the moment, the smart, sarcastic young woman that had been sitting there a minute before was gone. In her place was a scared, eighteen year old girl whose life had just been turned upside down and shaken by the heels of its boots.

"I'm pregnant," Daria whispered, breaking down quickly. "I'm pre . . . I'm preg . . .

Jane wrapped her arms around her friend and held Daria close as she began to cry.

"It'll be okay, mi amiga," Jane said as Daria wept. "I'm right here."

It was going to be a long senior year.

to be continued

**__**

Author's notes:

First of all, thanks and credit where it is due.

A special Thank You to Roger, Tafka, Robert, Nomad, and Deref for beta reading my material. Your suggestions have served to make this story better than it could be if I had only worked on it on my own, without consulting others. I would also like to thank the members of the Paperpusher's Message Board for making me fall off my chair laughing and alternately making me think long and hard about various aspects of this story when I brought up the premise. On a more local scene, I would like to thank the people at work who read my work while I hovered in the middle distance and tried to gauge their reactions to the story. That kind of feedback is almost as important as the technical stuff, and a lot more fun to watch.

On other fronts, for those of you now screaming "What happens next?!?!" at the top of their lungs, I fully intend to continue this storyline, wrapping it in the major events of Daria Season Five. I'm the first to admit that this is going to be some trick, but I'm looking forward to it.

Well, with that, Thank You for reading my story.

Questions? Comemnts? Even better - a route to Lawndale??

Send 'em to Greystar@Hotmail.com

~~~{ Finis }~~~


	2. Reflections and Revelations

**__**

Synopsis: Having discovered that she is pregnant, Daria attempts to come to terms with it, while seeking an ally in her favorite aunt. However, keeping it a secret, even for the moment, might prove to be a little harder than she thinks.

**__**

Author's Forward: I am rating the following story PG-13 for content. The subject matter deals with teen pregnancy. I am not an advocate of teen pregnancy, and firmly believe that common sense should prevail in such cases. However, real life being what it is, this is not always the case.

The following story was written for entertainment purposes only, and _should not _be taken as educational material. I do not claim that the "technical" aspects of my story are even remotely accurate. If you have any questions, go to a responsible adult knowledgeable in the appropriate areas.

**__**

Other Notes: The author assumes that the reader is familiar with "Daria" and the characters therein. The previous story, "Empirical Evidence," took place over the six to eight week period concurrent with the Fifth Season episodes "Sappy Anniversary," "Fat Like Me," and "Camp Fear." This story takes place three days after the conclusion of "Empirical Evidence."

**__**

Legal Drek: Daria and her cohorts are property of MTV and Viacom.

This story is Copyright April 26 2003.

Daria

in

Reflections and Revelations 

By Greystar

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daria sat on her bed staring out the window next to her. On her lap, forgotten for the moment, was one of her favorite collections of Russian short stories and essays. Having read the same page of "Letter To Gogol" half a dozen times already, Daria had turned away from her book in an effort to clear her mind. She stared, almost unseeing, across the back yard and over the fence into the neighbors yard. There, a group of children, bedecked with water wings and life jackets, played and dove and splashed about in their swimming pool under the watchful eyes of two sets of parents. Daria tried to superimpose herself onto the scene that was playing itself out a few dozen yards away. Try as she might, she was unable to insert herself into that happy scene, or her child.

Her child. It was still almost impossible for Daria to wrap her mind around that concept. Three days ago, Daria had discovered she was pregnant.

Daria had returned home late that night and immediately locked herself in her bedroom. She had convinced her parents that she had a case of the flu, managing to keep them and her sister out of her room for the rest of the weekend. Daria used the flu excuse to get out of school that Monday as well, a story that Helen almost hadn't bought until Daria had run from the room to be sick. After that, the rest of the day, and the house, had been hers.

The expected telephone call form Jane had come in the midmorning. Daria had made no effort to answer the phone, preferring to let the answering machine in the kitchen perform it's primary function. In fact, it had performed that function three times that day, as Daria had found out when hunger had forced her out of her room and down to the kitchen that afternoon.

After pouring a partial bowl of cereal, she took Helen's traditional place at the kitchen table and looked over at the machine, its indicator flashing the numeral 3 incessantly. Daria sat for a few minutes, stirring the sugar coated O's in their bath of skim milk before relenting to the machine's indicator. She turned and pressed the playback button.

"Hey, Daria? You around?" Jane's voice filtered through the small speaker on the telephone base. "Look, if you're there, pick up, huh? . . . Okay, um, I'll get your assignments and call you again later."

The machine made a sick beep sound before starting the second message.

"Yo, amiga, it's me," Jane's second message started. "Pick up the phone will ya? I know you're around there. Quinn told me that you were saying that you had the flu. I'll stop by as soon as I can get out of here, okay?" The bell rang in the background. "I'll call again later, I gotta get to class. Bye."

The machine made another sick beep before it started playing the last message.

"Daria, it's quarter after two. I know you're awake around there someplace," Jane's voice said, sounding a little put off. "Would you please pick up the phone? . . . Okay, I guess not. Look, there's one class left. I'll be over there in a couple of hours." There was a silence, then she heard Jane mutter, "Dammit, I better not be talking to an empty house."

Daria looked at the kitchen clock and waited, absently stirring her cereal until it had turned into an unappetizing grayish mass. She was still doing that when the door bell rang. As much as Daria wanted not to go and answer the door, she was fairly certain that Jane wouldn't give up too easily considering the events of the past few days. With a sigh, Daria pushed herself up from the table, abandoning the slop that her cereal had become, and trudged to the door. As she crossed the living room, Daria wondered if she could get away with just getting her homework and talking Jane into leaving.

__

Who are you kidding? Daria asked herself as she reached for the door knob.

"Hey," Daria said sullenly as she opened the door.

"Yo," Jane said in reply as she walked in, concern evident. "You doing all right?"

"Yeah," Daria replied as she shuffled back towards the living room sofas.

"Could've fooled me," Jane said as she followed.

"Mmm," Daria said as she dropped down on one of the sofas.

Jane sat down at her friend's side and looked Daria over with growing concern. Daria had quickly slipped into a funk since Jane had saw her last, which she thought was understandable, considering the circumstances. But something just didn't sit right, as Jane looked at her friend. It appeared to her that Daria's clothes had been worn for a length of several days. Her hair hadn't been combed, and probably not washed for the same amount of time. Jane suspected that Daria probably hadn't been out of her room since they had separated that Saturday night.

"So," Jane started to say, fishing for a subject. "I brought your stuff from school."

"Thanks," Daria mumbled, not looking up from the toes of her stocking feet.

"O'Neill's been starting in on Greek plays," Jane said, looking for some kind of a reaction from her friend.

"Mmm," was Daria's only reply.

"Ms. Barch says that we're going to be starting a unit on entomology in the next couple of days," Jane continued, giving Daria an opening.

"Uh-huh," Daria mumbled, eliciting an unnoticed dropped eyebrow look from Jane

"Bennett started a chapter on service based economies today," Jane went on.

"Mmm."

__

Okay, time to pull out the big guns, Jane thought. "She's planning a field trip over to the 'Wicked Girls Strip Club' to demonstrate her point."

"Mm-hmm." No bites.

"She and Ms Li and Ms Barch are planning to get up on stage and do a three-way pole dance," Jane said with a smirk. _That's gotta get her attention._

"Mmm."

"Then Kevin and DeMartino are going to get up on stage and do their dog-boy and trainer act. I here DeMartino makes a convincing Jack Russell Terrier," Jane said, praying for a response. _Come on, Daria! I'm oh for four here!_

"Mmm," Daria mumbled.

"Dammit, Daria, will you do something other than grunt affirmatives here?" Jane sighed in frustration. "Say something . . . Please?"

"There's a bunch of kids swimming in the neighbor's pool on the other side of the fence," Daria said without looking up, here voice even more monotone than usual. "I can see them from my bedroom window. Four boys and three girls. I've been watching them for most of the afternoon. Their parents are back there, too."

"Yeah," Jane said quietly. "I heard them when I was walking up."

"I tried to picture myself down there, watching my kid with the rest of them," Daria went on. "I tried to imagine myself doing all the clichéd things that mothers are supposed to do; join the P.T.A., sign the kid up for pre-school, parent-teacher meetings, school plays."

"Oh."

"I can't see myself doing any of that stuff," Daria continued. "It's not that I'm incapable, it's just that . . . the concepts are so completely alien to me that I can't get my mind to process the ideas."

"Kind of like me getting an 'A' in math," Jane said.

"Yeah," Daria said. She looked up at Jane after a moment when she realized what she had just said. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm not making much sense."

"Actually, you are," Jane said with a slight smirk. "You're scared out of your mind."

"Yeah," Daria said, looking back at her socks. She took a deep breath and let out as a long tired sigh. "How could I be so damn stupid? I should have gone with my first instinct and thrown him out of the house when I had the chance."

"Daria, you're not stupid," Jane said, putting her hand on Daria's shoulder. "You're human, just like the rest of us."

"Being human sucks," Daria mumbled.

"Sometimes," Jane said with a gentle smile. "Depends on who you're with, though."

"And who's doing the sucking?" Daria groused, missing Jane's expression.

"C'mon, Daria, that's not who I was talking about," Jane replied, smile replace by a slightly sad look.

"I know," Daria said, glancing at Jane. "And you're right."

The two girls were silent for a long moment. The only sounds they heard were the creaks of the house, the quiet hum of air flowing through the heat vents, and each other breathing.

"I suppose I'm going to have to tell him sooner or later, huh?" Daria said.

"Eventually," Jane agreed.

"How about the day I go into labor?" Daria quipped. "That sounds like a good time."

"Yeah, but I think he'd notice that you'd've put on a bit around the middle by then," Jane said with a small smirk. "He might get suspicious."

"He is pretty observant sometimes," Daria replied, showing a little more animation. "I'll be honest, Jane, I haven't even remotely considered how to bring the subject up. How do you think he'll react to the prospect of being a father?"

"I don't know," Jane answered with a shrug. "Considering how you reacted . . . "

"Yeah, this'll be a walk in the park."

"Have you talked to him at all?" Jane asked as she turned on the sofa to face Daria. 

"He tried to call over the weekend, but I asked mom to tell him I was sick and that I'd call him back," Daria replied. "Beyond that I haven't seen him since Friday."

"Do you want me to be there when you do?" Jane asked.

Daria had to think about that for a few minutes. As much as she wanted to avoid the conversation entirely, she knew that was impossible. Having Jane there would definitely be a boost to her confidence, but she didn't think that it would be a terribly wise idea. This was something that she and Tom would have to deal with on their own for a long time to come. Daria also suspected that one of the reasons that Jane wanted to be there was that she felt somewhat responsible for the situation. She was, after all, the one who had purchased the prophylactic that Daria and Tom had used, and that had subsequently failed.

"As appealing an idea as that is, Jane, I have no idea how Tom's going to take this," Daria said. "I don't want him blaming you for all of this."

"Hey, if he blames me then he blames me," Jane said with a shrug. "I don't care about that. The important part is that he takes care of the two of you."

"I'm not sure I want him taking care of us."

"What?"

"I can take care of myself quite well, thank you," Daria said. "I've done it before."

"Daria, this isn't like a week with the parents out of town or babysitting Tad and Tricia Gupty," Jane said with a frown. "This is gong to be a major chunk of the rest of your life."

"I know," Daria said with a sigh. "Believe me I know."

"Besides, you're getting a little ahead of yourself here, aren't you?"

"I guess," Daria said quietly.

"So, then, my question still stands," Jane said. "Do you want me to be there when you talk to Tom?"

"I don't know," Daria said with a sigh.

~~~~~~

Tom looked up from his book on Trotski when the living room telephone rang. His father, Angier, was sitting on the sofa next to the phone reading the financial section of the _Sun-Herald_, and put his paper down and picked up the receiver.

"Hello, Sloane residence," he said into the phone. "Well, hello Daria. Tom tells me you've picked up a flu bug. I hope you're feeling better."

Tom looked up expectantly as his father talked.

"Of course, he's right here," Angier said, handing the receiver to Tom, who put his book down and gave his father a cocked eyebrow look as he got up and took the receiver.

"Hi Daria," Tom said as he put the receiver to his ear. "Feeling any better?"

"Um, a little," Daria replied. "It's been a long weekend."

"I can imagine," Tom said. "Can I bring you anything?"

"No, you can't, and no, thank you," Daria replied. "Um, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, what is it?" Tom asked.

"Not over the phone," Daria said slowly. "Can we meet face to face someplace? It's kind of important."

"Well, I can't really get away tonight, but I'm sure I can tomorrow. Will that be okay?" Tom asked.

"Tom, this is _really_ important," Daria said. "There's no way that you can get out tonight for a little while?"

"Well, if it's _that _important, I'll ask. Hold on," Tom said before putting his hand over the mouthpiece. Whatever it was that Daria wanted to talk about, it sounded like it had her just a little upset.

"Hey, Dad?" Tom said, getting his father's attention. "Is there any way that I can be a little late for dinner tonight? Daria's got something that she wants to talk to me about."

"Now Tom, you know that we've had this dinner with Dean Hargrove scheduled for a month," Angier said, turning the page of his newspaper. "I like Daria too, but you can't just run off to be with your girlfriend whenever the whim strikes."

"She says it's urgent," Tom said.

"If she can't talk to you about whatever it is over the telephone when she has the opportunity, then it can wait until tomorrow," Angier said. "You know how important this is."

"Then can I beg out of this little gathering a little early?" Tom asked with a sigh.

"We'll see," Angier said, noncommittally.

__

Translation: Fat chance, Tom thought with a scowl, turning back to the phone.

"Daria?" Tom said, removing his hand.

"Yeah?"

"We've got some big dinner with one of the deans form Bromwell University," Tom said sourly. "There's no way I can get out of it completely, but I will try to get away early if I can."

"When?" Daria asked.

"I don't know, about eight-thirty or so," Tom replied. "I promise I'll call just as soon as I get free, okay?"

"Alright, if that's the best you can do," Daria said with a sigh. "Don't forget, okay?"

"I won't," Tom said, curious at the change in the tone of Daria's voice. He turned his back on his father for a modicum of privacy and lowered his voice. "Daria, are you alright? What's wrong?"

"No, I'm not alright! How would you feel if you just found out that . . . that . . ." Daria started to say, but stopped herself.

"Daria, this sounds serious. What is it?" Tom asked.

"Not over the phone. Quinn just got home, and there's no way in hell I'm talking about this on a party line. Just don't forget, okay? I'll see you later," Daria said in a diamond cold tone just before she hung up.

Tom slowly lowered the receiver, looking at it with undisguised concern. What ever was bothering Daria was apparently pretty serious. Family problems? One of her parents or her sister ill? He turned back towards his father and put the receiver back on the telephone base and wondered what the results would be if he just up and left.

__

Probably my getting skinned alive, Tom thought. _But I'm not staying at that dinner one second longer than necessary._

"I'm going to go shower," Tom said as he left the room.

~~~~~~

Daria sat and looked at the telephone receiver in her hand as Quinn walked in the door.

"Hey, Daria, was that the phone?" Quinn asked as she closed the door behind her. "I'm expecting a call from Sandi so we can plan next week's Fashion Club meeting, and I'm expecting a call from Larry too. He finally got a new car and he promised me the first date, that is if Sandi hasn't gotten her hooks into him by then. Well, I gotta go change, Peter's picking me up in two hours!"

"Hope he remembers to lift with his legs," Jane said as Quinn scampered up the stairs.

"Mmm," Daria said, putting the phone in her lap.

"So, what did he say?" Jane asked, looking back at her friend.

"His family has a dinner with a university dean that he can't get out of, but he'll try and leave early," Daria summarized with a frown. "Damn, I almost blew it right there."

"What?"

"I almost told him right here on the telephone," Daria said angrily. "I almost blurted it out like . . . like we were talking about the weather. 'Gee, sunny day. By the way that pink prophylactic sprung a leak and now you're going to be a father. Think it'll rain?' "

"Daria . . ." Jane started to say.

"Look, I can't deal with this right now," Daria said, standing up. She threw the phone onto the sofa. "I'm going up stairs and take a long hot shower before Quinn locks herself in there. I need to clear my head."

"Mind if I hang out in your room till you're done?" Jane asked, standing up as well.

"Might as well," Daria said as they started towards the stairs. "You can watch television while I shower. I might be a while though."

"No rush," Jane said as they walked. "I can start on my homework."

~~~~~~

After a quick stop in her room to grab a bathrobe, Daria went into the bathroom and cranked up the heat in preparation for her shower. As the heater built into the ceiling poured hot air into the room, Daria automatically went through the motions of removing her clothes and deliberately tried to not think about anything. The rattling white noise of the fan and the warm air being blown over the now bare skin of her shoulders and back seemed to help a little.

Daria slid the shower door open and turned on the hot water, mixing in cold until it was at a relaxing temperature. She stepped inside and went through the motions on autopilot, standing under the cascade of hot water until her hair was thoroughly soaked through and streams of water flowed down her chest and back. She took a half a step and let the water massage her shoulders and upper back, slowly working out the tension that had been building up for the past three days. For a few seconds, she reveled in the heat in the enclosed space of the shower stall.

She turned around and stepped back under the water stream. Looking up into it, Daria let it clear the soaked tendrils of hair form her face as she groped for the shelf in front of her. Grasping the familiar form of the shampoo bottle, she popped the lid up and squeezed some into her hand with one deft movement. A second later, she was scrubbing the blue dandruff control goop into her hair and scalp. She pressed harder than she usually did, trying to massage her brain through the bones of her skull, and finding it oddly relaxing.

Daria kept her eyes closed as the shampoo ran down her hair and a little crawled down the bridge of her nose to run off of the tip. She grabbed the soap and began to unconsciously lather up the rest of her body. Unbidden, indeed almost unnoticed, Daria's mind began to wander into some dangerous territory as she went through the motions with the soap. She remembered how, that first night, Tom's hand had wandered around the front of her jacket and, when it had made contact with the side of her breast, every nerve ending there lighting up like the Fourth of July before common sense kicked in and she brought his explorations to a temporary halt.

All too temporary, it turned out. Daria had led him up to her bedroom with the purposes of . . . what? She hadn't known at the time. Well, maybe she _did_, but would never have been the type to talk about it to either Jane or to Tom. It turned out that, for the most part, they didn't really need to. He wanted to explore, and Daria wanted to be explored.

Unconsciously, a small smile crossed Daria's lips as her soap covered hands wandered across the front of her torso. Unknowingly, she mimicked the paths that Tom's hands had taken that night. For a long moment, Daria was lost in the memory of a few minutes in her room from almost two months ago.

Until her right hand ran over her abdomen, just below her navel, and stopped.

Daria knew what was going on down there with a high degree of certainty and mentally cursed the near perfect score that she'd gotten on the Reproductive Biology section that they had done last year. Somewhere over the last eight or nine weeks, the small life she carried inside had crossed that gray legal line that defined it as either an embryo or a fetus. Unbidden, other information was called to the forefront of Daria's mind: it was about an inch or so long, now, about the size of a ping pong ball. Limbs would be growing, eyes would be recognizable, major skeletal features were forming. Daria remembered the pictures that she had seen in the biology texts she had studied for the unit and had thought at the time that it looked like it was still "growing into" its spinal column. Kevin Thompson had made the mistake of calling it a "mutant tadpole boy" and had suffered Barch's wrath for a month. She had almost felt a little sorry for Kevin.

Daria finally opened her eyes and looked down at her abdomen as rivers of soap ran down her legs. She knew what else was coming as well. After another four or five weeks at best, if her guess was right, her abdomen would begin to swell. Then it would be impossible to maintain any kind of confidentiality about her condition. There would be other changes that would have to be monitored by a trained professional. And that meant Daria would have to tell her parents.

Any worries she had about bringing up the subject up with Tom were vaporized by the harsh, painful reality that she would, all too soon, have to inform her parents. Daria had no illusions that any happy feelings at becoming grandparents would hold up for more than an instant against the deluge of anger and disappointment that would be directed at her. Even with Jane's support, Daria wasn't sure that she would be able to withstand that onslaught.

Daria slowly sank to her knees in the shower as her mind conjured up what might happen when she told Jake and Helen. Her dad would probably fly off into one of his rages that was usually directed at either his father, or someone who was not even remotely within reach. If Tom were unlucky enough to be there, Jake would probably chase him around the house until Helen and the rest put a stop to it and got him calmed. After that, he's probably get plastered and have to be hauled up to bed.

Daria knew exactly how Quinn would react when she broke the news. The rest of the Fashion Club would have the news before the hour was up, while Quinn wailed all the time about her ruined reputation because her sister / cousin was preggo. Of course Quinn would put her own spin on it, making Daria look like a charity case and Quinn look like the big hero, taking in the poor little brainy pregnant girl.

Helen, really, was the unknown factor in the whole scenario, Daria figured as she sat on the floor of the shower, her knees pulled up to her chin. When her father went off, most of the time it was fairly undirected - kind of pathetic, really. But when Helen went ballistic, she could focus her temper with an intensity that even the heartiest soul was hard pressed to endure. Daria had been on the receiving end of that temper and lived to tell about it, but that was only because Daria was just as stubborn as Helen could be. However, Helen had the added advantage of being her mother, and that was a trump card that there was no way around.

Daria sat on the floor of the shower, pondering her fate as the hot water cascaded down around and over her and steam filled the small space. Despite the heat, Daria shivered, afraid.

~~~~~~

As Daria had stepped out of her bedroom with her bathrobe over her arm, Jane sat down on the bed and unpacked a couple of books from Bennett's economics class. She tried to concentrate on the texts before her for a few minutes, but the soothing sounds of the shower from down the hall interrupted. Added to that was the raging concern that she felt for her friend over the past few days.

Closing her text book, Jane tried to put herself in Daria's position, but there was no real way to do that. The Lanes and the Morgendorffers were as different night and day in parenting styles. Jane seriously doubted that her folks would even notice if she got pregnant -- Trent would be the one who would hit the roof, and probably out of a sound sleep, too.

__

Who's actually got the cajones _to run interference with Jake and Helen?_ Jane thought as she got up to pace the room She absently picked up various things as she paced around the room. She'd turn the item over in her hand, then toss it on the bed, desk, or a shelf.

Jane herself couldn't stand up to them on her own. No matter how much they might like and respect Jane, and despite her recently having turned eighteen, she was still considered just a kid to them despite her legal adult status. She'd get flattened like a mouse under a tractor-trailer truck.

Quinn was completely out of the question for that job as well, Jane decided, chuckling ruefully at herself for even considering it. With all the fast talking Quinn did to justify her over-the-top purchases, dating practices, and just general Quinn-like behavior, she wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Quinn was just another mouse under the wheels of the Morgendorffer big rig.

__

Trent? Jane thought as she absently picked up Daria's cell phone from her desk. _Nah. He'd back me up, and by extension Daria, but he's not crazy enough to go nose to nose with Jake and Helen._

Jane dropped herself into the desk chair and absently hit the power control on the phone, watching the little screen light up. Scowling to herself, Jane flipped through the short list of numbers Daria had stored. She immediately stopped scrolling through the numbers when she came upon one labeled 'AUNT AMY.'

__

Daria's Aunt Amy? Jane thought. _Well, why not?_

Jane remembered Daria telling her all about her Aunt Amy after her cousin Erin's wedding. Daria had gone on and on about Amy Barksdale, and for Daria that was saying something. She'd shown Jane a picture of Amy on vacation in Hawaii during the contact lenses thing a while back. Jane remembered thinking that Daria could have been Amy's daughter, they looked so much alike. Amy treated Daria as an equal on every conceivable level and had a positively lethal sarcastic streak. From what Jane knew of Helen, and had heard of Rita, she'd have needed it.

__

But would Daria want her aunt to know? Jane thought as she looked at the phone.

"Yeah, she would want her to know," Jane answered her own question. She deliberately hit 'Select' and then 'Send' with her thumb, then held the phone up to here ear. "Hell, she'll need all the allies she can get."

The telephone on the other end rang a couple of times before it was picked up.

"Hi, you've reached Amy Barksdale's machine," Jane heard a woman's voice say. "Leave a message, and I'll think about letting her hear it later."

__

Crap, a machine! This is not what I wanted to hear, Jane thought angrily. _How do I --_

THWEEP! went the machine's beeper.

"Uh, hi, Mrs. Barksdale, you don't know me, but I'm Daria's friend, Jane Lane," Jane said slowly. "Look, Daria's gotten herself into a bit of a fix, and it would be a great thing if you could contact her as soon as -- "

"Hello?" Amy's voice suddenly came on the line. "What's that about Daria?"

__

Screening her calls, Jane thought before continuing. "Oh, hi. I, uh, didn't know you screened you calls."

"Depends on the book I'm reading at the time," Amy replied. "Jane, is it? What's wrong with Daria?"

"Well, Mrs. Barksdale," Jane started in again slowly. "I'm not really at liberty to say it in so many words. You see, Daria doesn't know I'm calling and would be pretty mad at me if she did, in fact she'd probably flay me alive with a dull spoon if she found out I was talking to you. This isn't really something that she can go to her folks with and expect a sane response about, you know?."

"I see," Amy replied, sounding curious. "So why isn't she calling me about this?"

"She hasn't really processed the whole situation either," Jane replied. "She was out of school yesterday, you see, and told her parents and sister that it was the flu. It's not, but . . ."

"I take it this is serious enough to make my tightly wound sister start dropping diamonds out of her shorts?" Amy asked.

"Oh, yeah," Jane replied with an involuntary chuckle. "You could definitely say that."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone before Amy spoke up again.

"Okay, Jane, you get Daria to call me back tonight and I'll see what I can do, okay?" Amy said.

"Thanks, Mrs. Barksdale," Jane said with a sigh.

"Just 'Amy,' please," Amy replied. "And you're welcome."

"Later, Amy," Jane said as she cut the connection at the same time as the she heard the shower stop running.

Jane quickly reset the menu on Daria's cell phone and shut the it off before putting it back on the desk where she found it. She tossed herself back on to Daria's bed to wait. The only thing that she had to worry about now was how to get Daria to call her aunt.

~~~~~~

Daria hadn't bothered to dry off when she got out of the shower, but simply walked out of the bathroom and into her room, wrapped in her robe. She had her arms wrapped around her chest and looked like she was about to spring into a full blown panic as she entered her room.

"Daria, what's wrong?" Jane asked, getting off of the bed.

"I can't tell my parents about this," Daria said, her voice wavering. "They'll kill me! Quinn will have me so ostracized around school that'll I'll be a full blown pariah. Tom'll . . . Oh, God, I was the one who suggested coming up here in the first place!" Daria sat down heavily on the bed, hugging herself tighter. "Tom's going to think that this is all _my _fault!"

"Whoa, Daria, calm down," Jane said, sitting beside her friend.

"Oh, God, how can you even look at me?" Daria said, turning her face away from her friend. "You probably think I'm a total whore. Why don't you just leave me to rot like everyone else is going to?"

"Whoa! Hey, come on now," Jane said putting an arm around Daria's damp shoulders and gently turned her friend's face back towards her. "I don't think that."

"You don't?"

"No, I don't," Jane said. "I _do _think that you're my best friend, and that you're scared to death. And I'm not going to 'leave you to rot,' as you so poetically put it. I'm here for the duration."

"I can't tell my folks," Daria said, looking at the floor. "My clothing will let me hide it for a while, yet. I've got enough money stashed around that I can cover a couple of trips to the doctor, but after that . . . God, what then?"

"Daria, you can't hide this from your family," Jane said. "That just isn't going to work."

"So, what do I do?" Daria asked in a small voice.

__

Jeez, Daria, don't make this too easy, Jane thought before continuing. "What we need to do is find someone who can tell us how to bring this up to your Mom. Some way that will get her on your side. Do you know anyone who can do that?"

"My Aunt Amy, but . . ." Daria's eyes got wide all of a sudden. "Omigod! What's _she_ going to think?"

"Take it easy," Jane said with a gentile hug of Daria's shoulders. "Why don't you get in touch with her and find out? From everything that you've told me about her, she doesn't seem like the kind of person to make snap judgments and go off the deep end on you."

"Yeah, but she's never had her so-called 'favorite niece' tell her she's pregnant before!" Daria almost cried.

__

Okay, maybe this won't be so easy, Jane thought.

"I know that, and I'm going to be here for you through all of this. But I don't have the pull to stand up to your Mom if she decided to go off the deep end. I think that your Aunt Amy does," Jane said. "Daria, think about this. We need all the allies we can get, and I think that your aunt is going to be the best of the bunch. She can tell your Mom off in spades and Helen will have to listen. We can't do that."

"I really need her to be on my side in this," Daria quietly admitted.

"So call her, get her up here," Jane said. "Once she sees what's going on . . . "

Daria knew that Jane was right. Amy wasn't at all the type to make a rush to judgment about someone, no matter how stupid they were. She'd let them prove it first, and then say what was on her mind. If Daria could calmly and rationally explain things to her aunt and convince her that it was one possibility out of who knew how many then, she was certain, Amy would be there for her. Of course, Amy could also, just as calmly and rationally, tell Daria that she was hoist with her own petard and turn her back on her too. Daria shook that thought out of her head. Amy wouldn't do that to her.

"You're right. I'll call her," Daria said quietly as she stood up and went over to her desk, where she sat back down. She picked up her phone and looked at it for a moment, before looking back at Jane. "What if she tells me I'm on my own?"

"Daria," Jane replied, looking Daria right square in the eye. "You're not on your own."

Daria looked back at her phone, turning it on and selecting 'AUNT AMY' from the speed dial list before hitting send. She held the phone up to her ear and waited.

"Hi, Aunt Amy, it's Daria," Daria said after a moment. "Can you come up to Lawndale? I'm . . . I'm kind of in trouble . . ."

~~~~~~

Tom looked at his watch for the tenth time in half as many minutes, eliciting a dirty look from his sister, Elsie, seated beside him and looking bored to death. Dean Hargrove and Tom's parents had spent most of the evening dragging up memories of Bromwell U, mutual friends, and various collegiate antics perpetrated by any one of a dozen people. So far any reason for Tom's presence had completely eluded him. The more the dinner had progressed into the night, the more impatient Tom got. The eight-thirty that he had promised Daria had turned into eight forty-five, and was threatening to become longer than that.

"Damn," Tom whispered to himself as he checked his watch for the eleventh time.

"Tom, will you quit looking at your watch," Kay said. "It won't be that much longer."

"That's what you said forty five minutes ago, Mom," Tom replied. "And I promised Daria I would get in touch with her fifteen minutes ago."

"Well, it will just have to wait a little longer, Tom," Kay replied.

"Mom, this is kind of important," Tom said with a slight scowl. "Daria sounded pretty upset when she called."

"Very well, Tom, but please hurry," Kay said with a frown.

"Thanks, Mom," Tom said as he stood up. "Excuse me everyone. I'll be right back."

Tom set out across the dining room of the Winged Tree Country Club as quickly as he could get away with. As soon as he was out of visual range of his parents and the Dean, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Once he reached the lobby, he dialed Daria's number from memory.

"Come on," Tom muttered as he listened to the phone on the other end ring.

"Hello?"

"Daria? It's Tom," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I guess," Daria replied. "Where are you?"

"I'm still at the country club," Tom replied flatly. "This dinner is taking forever. So far the only interesting thing this guy's had to say is a story about my grandfather skinny dipping in the campus pool."

"Look, Tom," Daria said slowly. "You don't have to come over tonight if you can't get away. This, uh, flu bug is acting up again, and I'm really not feeling like seeing anyone right now."

"Oh, okay," Tom said, his shoulders slumping.

"Sorry to ruin your night," Daria said.

"Actually, I'm desperately looking for an excuse to get out of here," Tom said as he leaned against he wall and slipped his free hand into his pants pocket. "Did you still want to talk about whatever it was?"

"Yeah, but not tonight," Daria said. "I'm really beat."

"Alright. Think you'll be well enough for a visitor tomorrow?" Tom asked hopefully.

"I should be, but my Aunt Amy's coming through town tomorrow," Daria said, sounding slightly more pleased about that prospect. "She should be here for a few days at the very least. I've told her about you. Maybe I can introduce you."

"I think I'd like that," Tom said. "You just get well, okay?"

"Okay. Tom?" Daria asked.

"Yes?"

"What if . . ." Daria started, then hesitated.

"What if what?"

"Never mind," Daria said with a sigh. "I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Okay. 'Bye Daria."

"Bye Tom," Daria said softly just before she cut the connection.

Tom looked at his phone for a moment before slipping it back in his pocket. He stood in the lobby, leaning on the wall, trying to fathom what was going on with Daria. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it could be. All he knew for the moment was that it had Daria seriously worried, and she wanted to talk about it but, for whatever reason, couldn't bring herself to do so.

__

Could it have something to do with this aunt coming to visit? Tom wondered. He had his share of aunts that he could just as well do without, but this Amy didn't sound like one of those. _But if that isn't it, what is it?_

Tom looked across the lobby and back into the dining room. Standing up and squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath and mustered his stamina and started walking back towards his family's table. He resolved to get through the rest of this night without fear of losing his sanity, or at the very least not falling asleep at the table.

~~~~~~

The next day passed slowly for Daria and Jane. Apparently word that Daria had the flu had made the rounds, as she found a rather sappy "Get Well Soon" card from O'Neill stuck to her locker. Jodie and Mack had also spoken to Daria over lunch and hoped that she was feeling better. The only thing out of the ordinary was a sudden trip to the bathroom in the middle of gym class. Daria had claimed to a glowering Ms. Morris that she must not have been as over her flu bug as she thought, and asked for permission to leave class early. Daria had even managed to wrangle an early escape for Jane by saying that she didn't want to be by herself. Afterwards, Daria felt like every eye in school was on her. That aside, the rest of the day went by pretty much as normal for the girls, until that afternoon.

"So, how are you doing, all things considered?" Jane asked as they were walking home.

"Alright I guess," Daria replied sullenly. "I know nobody knows yet, but I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was looking at me today. It felt like they knew and were already making judgments."

"Nobody but the two of us know. Besides, when did you start giving a crap about what other people thought?"

"Normally I don't, but then this situation is hardly normal. How many pregnant girls do you see walking around Lawndale High?"

"Not too many, I'll grant you. But you aren't the first girl to get pregnant while going to Lawndale High, Daria, and you certainly won't be the last."

"You've lived here longer than I have. Name one," Daria challenged.

"I can name several, if not by actual name," Jane said, holding up her hands to start counting off on her fingers.

Jane was interrupted by the sound of a small but powerful sports car engine coming up the street behind them. When the car's horn honked, both girls turned to see a red two door sports car pulling up behind them. Driving the vehicle was a woman who could have been Daria's twin sister, were she about thirty-odd years younger, or very easily mistaken for her mother.

"Aunt Amy!" Daria exclaimed.

"Damn, you two look _do_ a lot alike," Jane said with a shake of her head. 

"Hello there, Daria," Amy said as she pulled to a stop, talking loudly over the engine. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Uh, yeah," Daria said. "Hell of a coincidence."

"And you must be Jane," Amy greeted Jane, looking at her with a very familiar smirk.

"Well, if I must I must," Jane replied with a smirk of her own.

"I've heard quite a bit about you," Amy said.

"I assure you, the more notorious bits are all true," Jane replied.

"Uh, Aunt Amy, I wasn't expecting you to show up until later tonight," Daria said, slightly unprepared.

"Well, I figured that you'd want a this conversation as far away from the prying ears of parents and siblings as possible," Amy said with a knowing look.

"Uh, I suppose," Daria said, looking a little frightened.

"How about I ruin your dinner with a pizza with everything?" Amy offered. "My treat. Sort of a way to ease into things?"

"Works for me," Jane said. "How 'bout you, Daria?"

"Um . . .Sure?"

~~~~~~

Sandi Griffin sat in her booth in Pizza King, the most recent issues of _Waif_ spread out on the table in front of her and a partially eaten chef's salad off to one side. She still hadn't set an agenda for the weekly Fashion Club meeting, and that was only two days away. Sandi was finding it hard to concentrate on finding a subject that Quinn wouldn't horn in on like she thought she knew everything. Sandi was still doing a slow burn over last week's meeting where Quinn had yakked for an hour about the new fall line of party dresses that were rumored to be coming to Cashman's for a sneak preview. What really burned Sandi when she checked into it the next day, was that Quinn had been right about almost everything that she had been talking about.

"This is where we usually sit," Sandi heard that geek Daria say from the booth behind her.

__

Great, like I need another distraction, Sandi thought, frowning at her magazines.

"You guys get settled. I'll go order and get some sodas," an unfamiliar voice said.

Sandi looked up and saw an unfamiliar older lady walk up to the front counter and start talking to the cashier there, apparently placing an order. Sandi looked her over with a critical eye, noting her round glasses and a distinct lack of makeup, other than some subtle lipstick. The orange pullover and black slacks she was wearing didn't reflect a lot of fashion responsibility, but she did have a figure that could be worked with by the right people.

__

That must be Quinn's geeky aunt, Sandi thought as she repressed a shudder, going back to her magazines. _How can she stand being related to people like that?_

Sitting in their booth, Daria was looking a little worried. She kept casting unsure glances after her aunt.

"Daria, you okay?" Jane asked, leaning on the table.

"Jane, I'm really not sure about this," Daria said hesitantly. "I'd like to believe that she's not going to go on some hell bent rush to judgment, but . . ."

"But you're still scared?" Jane asked reasonably, getting only a nod in response. "Hey, it's not going to be that bad. I mean _I_ know and nothing's changed between us."

"Yeah, but you were there when I found out," Daria said. "Hell, you made the connection before I did."

"Made the connection with what?" Amy said as she returned to the table, holding three drinks in her hands. She slid into the booth beside Daria, effectively trapping her there, and passed out the drinks and straws.

"Well . . . This is actually a little difficult to go right into," Daria said, covering her nerves by putting her straw into her soda and taking a sip.

"Why don't you girls start out at the beginning?" Amy suggested. "The best way to figure out how to get someone out of trouble, as you put it yesterday, is to figure out how they got into it in the first place."

In the booth behind Daria and Amy, Sandi perked up slightly at the word 'trouble' and began to listen in with half an ear as she slowly worked on her salad.

"Okay, you know about this fellow that Daria's been seeing, right?" Jane asked, getting the ball rolling.

"Uh-huh, she's told me a little about him," Amy replied, casting a mischievous sidelong glance at her niece. "Not a whole lot, mind you."

"Well, before Tom and Daria started going out, Tom and I were going out," Jane explained.

"Yeah, she told me about that too. Rough time," Amy said. "Not a lot of friendships would stand up to something like that."

"Yeah, I know," Daria said. "It's almost like she's a glutton for punishment or something."

"Hey! Have you been looking through my art supplies trunk again?" Jane asked Daria, faux accusingly.

"No, under your bed," Daria replied, deadpan.

Amy just chuckled and shook her head. Over the back of the bench, Sandi rolled her eyes and looked as if she might be ill.

"Anyway, the important parts all started happening about two months ago," Daria began to explain. "You see, Quinn noticed that it was coming up on the six month anniversary of my and Tom's first date . . . "

Daria launched into the story of their six month anniversary, hitting most of the high points that were pertinent to the story: Quinn's pointing out the date, Daria's sudden concern about Tom's missing the date, her reticence to tell him, their argument in the park and subsequent patching things back together. Using the blandest, most technical terminology she could think of, Daria also recounted their experimentation session in her room, and what it had led up to.

Behind them, Sandi was silently choking on her salad, trying not to start coughing out loud. Fortunately for Sandi, the pizza arrived at the other table at that time, giving her the moment she needed. Getting control of her self as quickly as she could, Sandi cleared her wind pipe and began listening intently, any thoughts of a Fashion Club meeting agenda left completely behind. 

Daria continued her story, with Jane supplying a few extra details here and there, going into their discussion about how she thought stress made a menstrual cycle late, and that it had come once she had settled down some. Then she told about her having to run out of English class to throw up about two weeks later, and how she thought that it was just Jake's crazy cooking experiments fowling her digestive system up. Amy couldn't argue with the theory, considering some of the horror stories that she had been told of Jake's imagined cooking skills.

" . . . So, we jump ahead to about four days ago, heading back from Camp Grizzly," Daria was explaining in the same tone of voice one would use to describe an autopsy. "We stopped about half way back for snacks and gas for the van. My stomach had started bothering me again and Jane and I took advantage of the bathroom facilities. About a week beforehand, I had determined that my cycle was supposed to start either that Thursday or Friday, and it hadn't. Jane had asked me if I was getting stressed about the 'physical relationship' thing again, and I . . . Well, all of a sudden I threw up in the sink."

"Yuck," Amy commented, taking a bite of a slice of pizza.

"Tell me about it," Jane said, taking up the thread of the story. "As disgusting as it was, that was what finally cleared away the cobwebs. All of a sudden I remembered that my sister Summer went through pretty much the same thing with one of her kids, but she didn't suspect until she was something like two or three weeks late for her next period. And I told Daria that. Predictably, she was a little upset."

"Of course I was," Daria said with a frown. "What was I supposed to do? Smile and say 'neat-o?' "

"Seeing you smile and say 'neat-o' is something that I just couldn't picture," Amy commented to Daria.

"Anyway, she made some offhand remark about how they used protection and that it was neon pink," Jane went on, looking guiltily down at her slice. "After the sudden house cleaning my brain had just had, it sparked another memory."

"You see," Daria picked up. "When Jane and Tom went out for the first time, he had dared her to go into the men's room of some burger joint and get a condom out of the dispenser in there. It happened to be neon pink."

"And he put it into his wallet," Jane said without looking up.

"Where it rode around for a year," Amy hypothesized. She suddenly discovered the magnitude of what she might be asked to mediate.

"Yup," Daria said, staring at the table.

"I could have shot myself when I realized that," Jane said quietly.

Behind them, Sandi had almost stopped breathing. _Is she _serious_?!? That Daria geek might be . . . _pregnant_!?!_

"So what happened next?" Amy asked, more for form's sake than for any need for information. She looked from one girl to the other and waited for them to do this their way.

"We went to the pharmacy there and brought a home pregnancy test," Daria continued slowly. "When we got back to Jane's, I took it. It was the longest five minutes of my life."

"I can imagine," Amy said quietly, her own slice forgotten. "What was the result?"

Daria and Jane looked at each other for a moment. Jane looked guilty, and Daria looked scared. Without saying anything, Daria slowly reached into the pocket of her jacket and removed a two tone, pink and white plastic device about the size of a fountain pen. She looked at it for a moment before putting it on the table between her and her aunt. Before Daria had even put it down, Amy recognized it as an EPT testing stick.

Daria's hand was covering the little indicator window as if she was afraid to have anyone else know what it said there. Amy looked at Daria as she took her hand back and folded it in the other on the table in front of her, closing her eyes. To Amy, it looked as if Daria was waiting for the world to come to a screaming end in the next few seconds.

Her heart breaking for her niece, Amy turned and looked down at the device, and saw the results.

"Oh, honey," Amy whispered, tears in her eyes.

"I'm pregnant," Daria whispered.

"Oh, Daria," Amy almost sobbed, reaching over and hugging Daria tightly, then kissing her on the top of her head. Jane looked on, tears in her own eyes at the sight.

"You're not angry?" Daria asked from the midst of the embrace.

"Angry? Oh God, no!" Amy said with a laugh.

"Disappointed? Disgusted? Disillusioned?"

"Try happy beyond words," Amy said with a Mona Lisa smile. "You might come close."

"Mom and Dad won't be," Daria said.

"Yes, they will," Amy said, releasing Daria. "They might need a little time, but they'll come around."

"I haven't even told Tom yet," Daria said. "I'm almost as afraid of how he's going to react as I am of Mom and Dad's reactions."

"Well, let's worry about telling Tom and your parents a little later," Amy said, sipping from her soda. "The first thing we need to do is get you and your kid to a doctor and make sure that both of you are perfectly healthy. Once we're armed with that information, then we'll worry about going to this Tom and your folks."

"Yeah, I guess that might be the best way to . . .uh," Daria said slowly, then put her hand over her mouth.

"Daria?" Amy asked, concerned.

"Amy, you might want to get out of the road," Jane said, recognizing the look on Daria's face.

Amy didn't have to be told twice, sliding out of the booth with Daria hard on her heels. As soon as her boots hit the floor, Daria ran for the door to the Ladies restroom in back. Amy only hesitated a second before following her niece. Jane waited a moment longer, pausing to pick up the EPT stick from the table before pocketing it and following her Best Friend and Best Friend's Aunt.

Unseen by the three she had been eavesdropping on, Sandi slowly slid over to the edge of her booth and watched as Jane walked through the restroom doors. Slack jawed and wide eyed, she tried to process what she had just heard.

"Phone!" Sandi almost squeaked, and heading for the door, her salad and magazines completely forgotten.

~~~~~~

Quinn was sitting at her usual place at the kitchen table, absently picking at a place of celery sticks in front of her. She had the cordless handset balanced on her left shoulder as she talked.

"Well, I don't know, Larry," Quinn was saying into the phone. "I mean it's a cute idea and all, but that's just so early nineties. Why don't we go to _C'est la Veal_ out on the lake?"

Whatever Larry was going to say was preceded by the phone making a beeping sound in her ear.

"Oh, hold on, Larry, that's my call waiting," Quinn said before lifting her head long enough to hit the 'flash' button with her thumb. "Hello?"

"Quinn, you're never going to believe what I just heard your geeky cousin and her weirdo mother talking about at Pizza King," Sandi said rapidly.

"My cousin and her _what?_" Quinn asked, taking the receiver in her hand and glancing over shoulder towards the living room. Helen was in there arguing with someone over her cell phone and waving papers around in the air. "But Mom's not -- Sandi, what in the world are you talking about?"

"Your aunt or whatever that you said abandoned that geek Daria on your doorstep, remember?" Sandi shot back as she walked down the street, putting as much distance between her and Pizza King as she could. She shifted her grip on her cellular phone. "I just left them at Pizza King, and she's pregnant!"

"_What!?_ Waitasecond," Quinn said rapidly before hitting the flash button again. "Larry, I'll call you back."

Quinn cut Larry off and went back to Sandi's call as she stood up and opened the glass doors to the back yard.

"Okay, Sandi, calm down," Quinn said, taking a few steps out onto the grass. "Start again from the top. Who said my Aunt Amy's pregnant?"

"No, not your --! God, Quinn, pay attention will you?" Sandi said. "That geek _Daria _is pregnant!"

Quinn looked at the phone in shock for a moment, then stuck the end of her left index finger in her ear and swiveled it around a little before putting the phone back up to her ear.

"Okay, Sandi, let's try this again," Quinn said with a dead calm and took a deep breath. "**_WHAT in the HELL are you TALKING ABOUT???"_**

"OW! Gawd, Quinn, take it easy!" Sandi winced, almost dropping her phone. "Alright. I was at Pizza King, going over material for Sunday's meeting. You're sister, her artsy friend, and your aunt came in and sat down in the booth behind me. They started talking about how Daria and that Tom geek _-- ugh --_ did it up in her room or something. Then they talked about how she started getting sick -- this was while I was out of school when I'd broken my leg, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember, " Quinn replied, suddenly remembering Daria swiping a carrot stick through a box of chocolate ice cream. _Was she having a craving?_

"She said that she had got sick again when she was coming back from that silly camp thing that you went to last weekend," Sandi went on. "That artsy girl said her sister went through the same thing that your sister did. Then they bought a pregnancy test and used it as soon as they got home. I guess she showed your aunt the stick thingy, because she said that she was pregnant, and your aunt started acting all mushy and hugging her and stuff. Then that Daria got sick again and ran off into the bathroom."

"Did you see the stick thingy?" Quinn asked, her free hand on her hip, not believing a word of it.

"No, I think that artsy chick must have taken it with her when she followed them into the bathroom," Sandi said. "They left the restaurant and passed me just before I called you."

"Sandi, is it possible that Daria and Jane knew you were there and were just pulling your chain?" Quinn asked with a frown. "Aunt Amy's _damn _good when it comes to doing stuff like that on the fly."

"Kuh-winn, are you saying that my information is unreliable?" Sandi said, coming to a halt on the sidewalk and jamming a fist on her hip. "Besides, we've both pulled some pretty dammed good acting jobs on our parents before, and we've never come close to that good. No way it was an act."

"But --" Quinn started to say, but stopped as she heard the high powered raspberry of a sports car engine as it pulled up in front of the house. She turned around and looked through the open glass doors. "Dammit, they just got here. Look, keep this quiet for now, alright? I'll talk to you tomorrow in school."

Quinn hung up just as she heard the front door open. She started walking back to the house, still not sure what to make of Sandi's bombshell. Quinn hoped that Sandi would keep her mouth shut for a little while.

"Amy! Now this is a surprise!" Quinn heard Helen exclaim as Amy and Daria obviously walked in through the door. "Quiiiinnnn! Your Aunt Amy's here!"

"I'll be right there!" Quinn said as she slid the door shut, then put the receiver on the kitchen table. She stood there and watched as Daria and Amy each took seats on the living room sofas. Quinn squinted slightly, looking closely at her sister. She did indeed look a little paler than usual. If Daria had just been sick in the bathroom, that could explain why she was so pale. 

__

Sandi doesn't know what she's talking about, Quinn thought. _There's no way Daria could be pregnant . . ._

Could she?

to be continued

**__**

Author's Notes:

Once again, I must give thanks where it is due (in no particular order): Galen Hardesty, Ben Breek, Deref, Steven Galloway, Tafka, Roger E. Moore, and Robert Nowall, who's suggestions have once again made this story more than it could be on its own. Also, a special tip of the hat to Galen, who pointed out a gaff to me referring to "Letter to Gogol" as a book, an idea I shamelessly swiped from "Beaches of Barksdale," instead of an actual published letter/essay.

If there are any gaffs in this part of the story, the blame for them falls squarely on my shoulders. I usually send out the revised copy for reading before posting it anywhere. With this installment, however, favorable reviews on fanfiction.net have prompted me to skip that step.

Well, with that, Thank You for reading my story.

Questions? Comemnts? Even better - a route to Lawndale??

As always, an open invitation for any fan art is out!

Send 'em to Greystar@Hotmail.com

And Fan Art! I'd really love it if someone drew some fan art!

~~~{ Finis }~~~


	3. The Exposure of D

**__**

Synopsis: Daria deals with the issue of how to inform Tom that she is going to have a baby, while Sandi lords what she had overheard in Pizza King over Quinn's head. How will our heroes deal?

**__**

Author's Forward: I am rating the following story PG-13 for content. The subject matter deals with teen pregnancy. I am not an advocate of teen pregnancy, and firmly believe that common sense should prevail in such cases. However, real life being what it is, this is not always the case.

The following story was written for entertainment purposes only, and _should not _be taken as educational material. I do not claim that the "technical" aspects of my story are even remotely accurate. If you have any questions, go to a responsible adult knowledgeable in the appropriate areas.

**__**

Other Notes: The author assumes that the reader is familiar with "Daria" and the characters therein, and has read my previous two stories, "Empirical Evidence," and "Reflections and Revelations." This story takes place over the week following "Reflections and Revelations," and concurrent with most of the events portrayed in the episode "The Story of D."

**__**

Legal Drek: Daria and her cohorts are property of MTV and Viacom.

This story is Copyright June 7, 2003.

Daria

in

The exposure of d

By Greystar

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Let's get the hell out of here."

Amy Barksdale looked up from her year old magazine as a young figure in a pink t-shirt and blue jeans flashed by her on the way to the main entrance of the Lawndale Free Clinic. She quickly tossed it aside as she stood up and hurried to catch up with the figure. The clinic's automatic doors opened to allow their escape from the tacky colors and faulty air conditioning of the waiting room. Amy had to hustle to catch up to the young girl with the single French braid who was covering the ground with a space devouring stride. 

"Hey, slow down there, speedy," Amy said as she caught up to her niece who, she noted, was also carrying a large manila envelope.

"How, exactly, did I let you talk me into this?" Daria asked as she and Amy walked out of the Cedars of Lawndale Doctors Clinic. "You _know _Mom does _pro bono _work for this place at least once a month."

"Daria, it was the best thing that we could do," Amy explained. "We needed to see a professional and this was the only way to do it without a paper trail that a blind lawyer could follow. Besides, you used a different name and there's no way anyone would recognize you dressed like that."

"Well, you're right about that. No one would believe it, that's for sure," Daria said as she looked down at her clothes. She wore the cut off pink T-shirt and jeans outfit that she had used to sucker Quinn into going back to normal (for her) back when she was on her "Brains Morgendorffer" kick last year. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid that Amy had helped her with, and she wore soft contact lenses so her eyes wouldn't tear up every two minutes.

"I still think you look cute," Amy said with a smirk, trying to get Daria's mind off the visit enough so that she could relax. 

"I still don't believe that I hadn't burned this shirt," Daria said as she reached back and scratched the back of her head where the braid started. She wasn't used to braids and it was becoming uncomfortable. "I'm definitely going to burn it tonight, that's for damn sure."

"Not before I take a picture," Amy said, happy to see that Daria was starting to return to normal.

"You are the only other person on the face of the earth to see me in this outfit," Daria fired back with faux hostility. "And if you take one picture, aunt or no, I will dismember you in the street and bury your remains in six different states."

"Pity I left my camera back at your house," Amy finished cordially, not missing a beat. "So, what did the doctor say?"

"Wait till we get on the road," Daria said as they walked up to Amy's sports car.

"If you say so," Amy said as the two of them climbed into the car. 

As they pulled out into the traffic flow on the avenue, Daria opened the envelope, pulled out a couple of pages, and began to go over them again. Amy tried to glance over at them while keeping her eyes on the road at the same time. She quickly decided that wasn't going to work very well, so she made do with watching Daria's reactions to the information she was reading.

"So, what's up?"

"Well, the home test was right, I'm definitely pregnant," Daria said sourly. "The doctor ran her own tests and confirmed it. She figures that I'm about ten or eleven weeks along, which kind of fits."

"I suppose it would," Amy said with a nod as she expertly slid them past an enormous black pickup truck. "What else did the doctor tell you?"

"Well, she said that I can pretty much keep to my old routines for the next three or four weeks, or so. She told me to get started on some pre-natal vitamins and an iron supplement. We can get what we need at Drugs 'N' Stuff, by the way," Daria finished and stuffed the papers back in the envelope. "She also gave me the names of a couple of OB/GYNs over at Cedars. One of whom just so happens to be my mother's."

Daria sat and watched the buildings go by for a long moment while Amy glanced back and forth between her and the road.

"So, what else?" Amy finally asked.

"What do you mean 'what else?' " Daria said without looking over.

"I mean what about the baby? What did the doctor tell you? The suspense is killing me over here!"

"The baby is perfectly healthy, as far as she can tell. Beyond that, I didn't ask," Daria replied, finally looking over. 

"So is it a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know," Daria said, turning back to the window. "I didn't ask and don't particularly want to know."

"Wanted to be surprised, huh?" Amy asked.

__

Wanted to be not pregnant, Daria thought, but didn't say it out loud. "I don't know. I just . . . didn't want to know. That would make this just a little too real than I want to deal with right now."

"Daria, a professional of the Lawndale medical community, such as it is, has confirmed that you are indeed going to have a baby," Amy said reasonably. "It doesn't get any more real than that."

"Mmm."

"Speaking of real," Amy continued. "Have you decided what you're going to do about Tom and your parents?"

"I have a few ideas about Tom, but most of them are felonies in a lot of places," Daria said dryly, then sighed. "I have to tell Tom first, there's no way around that. Then I guess we'll just set both sets of parents down someplace and break the news to them all at once."

"Quick and painless," Amy commented.

"Like the electric chair," Daria mumbled. "Can we go someplace where I can get out of this ridiculous outfit before we go home? I need a long shower."

"Sure thing," Amy said, glancing at the envelope as Daria put it on the seat between them. "One thing, though."

"What?"

"Where did you come up with the name 'Tiffany Blum-Deckler?' "

~~~~~~

The Fashion Club had gathered in the Morgendorffer living room that night for a special meeting that just happened to coincide with Fashion Vision's Humanitarian Awards. Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany watched in rapt attention as rail thin model after rail thin model was presented with an Ivory Angel. Quinn, however, was having a hard time paying attention to the program. She was slumped against the back of the sofa she was sitting on and looked as if she had other things on her mind.

"Watching the Fashion Vision Humanitarian Awards instead of going out tonight was _such _a good idea, Sandi," Quinn said distractedly as the supermodel Vendela was called up to accept her Ivory Angel. _Never mind the fact that I'd give my zipper boots to be doing something that'd keep my mind on something other than the possibility Daria might be . . . Ugh._

"They're donating a tenth of a cent for every household tuned in. We're really doing something worth while," Stacy gushed from her spot on the floor next to the coffee table.

"Sandi, you've made us into contributors," Tiffany drawled, unaware that she was now associated with a general description of Quinn at the Free Clinic.

"Thank you all," Sandi said, graciously accepting the adulation and giving Quinn a sidelong look. "I try."

Quinn ignored Sandi's look and tried to concentrate on the television, spacing out Vendela's acceptance speech as well as the commercial that started afterwards. The process would have been easier if her mother hadn't chosen to walk through the living room for the third time that night with the telephone. Her conversation with Aunt Rita had been going on for nearly a half an hour now, and Helen was prowling the house like an anxious lioness ever since she picked up the phone.

"But Rita, if Erin never loved him, why'd she marry him in the first place?" Helen was saying. "Once he gave her _herpes_ she didn't think anyone else would want her??"

The four girls exchanged slightly disgusted glances as Helen prowled. Quinn glanced up at her mother and, despite the fact that her own mind was occupied with other things at the moment, she could see her mother's mind immediately toggle over into full Mother Mode.

"Oh lord, Rita! It's a new millennium! When will people get rid of these outmoded ideas about sex?" Helen proclaimed with a wave of her arm. _God, I wish she'd wake up and smell the coffee! It's not like when we were kids!_

Helen glanced at Quinn and her mind drifted, for just an instant, to some of the things that she had done at that age. Her face dropped just before she took the phone from her ear and turned fully to Quinn in almost half a panic.

__

Click, Quinn thought.

"Quinn! Where's your sister??" Helen asked, sounding upset.

"In her room, I guess," Quinn said with a shrug.

"Is Tom up there with her?" Helen asked. Sandi glanced over at Quinn with a strange look when Helen asked that.

"Mo-oom, I'm not J. Edger Winter!" Quinn exclaimed with a roll of her eyes.

"Here, talk to your aunt!" Helen shoved the telephone into Quinn's hands before heading for the stairs at a run. Quinn put the phone to her ear as Helen charged upstairs.

"Hello? It's Quinn, Aunt Rita," she said, then listened to her aunt prattle for a moment. "Well, of course she should divorce him, he's short!"

"Yeah, it's not like he got her _pregnant_ or anything," Sandi coldly said to Quinn with a reptilian look.

Quinn just silently glared back.

Upstairs, Helen was running down the hallway like she had heard someone screaming bloody murder. Various scenarios were playing through her mind at warp speeds, most of which involved images of Daria and Tom in a tangle of arms, legs, and sheets. These images spurred her on even faster as she hit the door to Daria's room and shoved it open. Helen rapidly scanned the room as she spoke with the speed of an auctioneer.

"Daria! Why don't -- "

The bed was empty and unwrinkled. _Thank God!_

" -- you two come --"

Opposite corner of the room was empty. _Where could they be?!_

" -- down stairs and . . ."

Daria was sitting at her desk and giving her mother the_ strangest_ look.

"Um, Tom's not here?" Helen asked, slowly realizing that she must be looking like a total ass.

"Not unless you have him secreted somewhere on your person," Daria said, looking her mother up and down before switching to a faux-knowing tone. "You do, don't you?"

"Oh, well, um, all right then," Helen said with a nervous giggle as she left the room.

Daria shook her head and went back to her typing, trying to pick up the train of thought before she lost it completely. The doctor from the clinic had advised her to try and relax a little, and writing had always worked for her in the past. It also gave her a way to plan out her conversation with Tom, but several of the scenarios that she had written were not very encouraging. In fact, this one wasn't working out very well either, Daria decided as she typed another half a line before her phone rang. She picked it up and turned away from her computer, grateful for the interruption.

"Hello?"

"Okay, the movie's just started and you're still in the comfort of your own home," Jane's voice said into Daria's ear. "So, I'd say that you're not going to make it. What would you say?"

__

The movie's just started? Daria looked wide-eyed at her watch. She wasn't supposed to meet Jane until . . . Twenty minutes ago.

"Crap." She had forgotten completely.

~~~~~~

A couple of hours later, Daria and Jane walked out onto the sidewalk in front of the Cineplex, followed by the rest of the denizens of the theater. They had missed the movie that they had initially made plans, and their second choice definitely hadn't been worth the price of the tickets, never mind the film it was printed on.

"Gee, whoda thunk it," Jane said with a well-faked sense of awe. "It turns out that alien super intelligence is no match for our earthly can-do spunk."

"And beautiful twenty-year old astrophysicists are really looking for a nice middle-aged street cop to fall in love with," Daria said, recalling the only plot point of the movie that she could remember.

"Yeah, didn't see that one coming."

"I wish I hadn't seen it at all," Daria said dryly.

"Well, if you'd been on time, we'd be deconstructing that comedy from Croatia instead of 'It Came From Planet Stupid.' What were you doing that was so important anyway?"

"Um, working on something," Daria said quietly.

"Oh, I'm satisfied," Jane said, coming to a halt. She crossed her arms and gave Daria a look that definitely said otherwise. "Come on. Out with it, Morgendorffer."

"Okay, I was working on how to tell Tom about my visit to the clinic today," Daria said as she turned to face Jane. "I was kind of writing out scenarios of what might happen when I told him."

"Oh, that explains why you were so distant in the theater," Jane said as her look softened. "I take it that you're still a little nervous about the prospect of having that conversation with him?"

"Try a little very scared to death," Daria said. "Nothing that I've thought about saying looks even remotely like it will turn out well."

"You want me to tell him for you?" Jane asked. "I mean, after all, what else are Best Friends for than to drop life changing pronouncements in boyfriends laps."

"Thanks a heap," Daria said as they resumed walking.

"I'm sorry," Jane said as she fell in step. "Seriously, how about I come over and see what you've come up with. Maybe I can help?"

"That's okay. Mom seems to be on an overprotection kick. She burst into my room right before you called thinking Tom was in there."

"So if she came in on us discussing how you're going to tell Tom that he's going to be a daddy, it would be safe to assume that her reaction would be less than stellar?"

"Thank you for understanding."

"You never did tell me if you wanted me around when you broke the news to him," Jane said. "Did you want me there?"

"Well," Daria replied slowly. "Aunt Amy will be back in a day or two, so she'll be there when I tell him. I guess having a little extra moral support can't hurt."

"And afterwards, the four of us can figure out how to slip your folks a Mickey so we can tie them to their chairs before we tell them."

"Only way I'd do it," Daria said with a smirk. _It may be the way I have to do it._

~~~~~~

Quinn was doing her best to block out Sandi and pretend to pay attention to the television as she turned over the events of the last couple of days over in her head. First and foremost, there was that bombshell that Sandi had dropped on Quinn in the middle of the week -- that Daria had told Aunt Amy that she was pregnant while they were at Pizza King. Then Aunt Amy shows up at their house that same night with a story that she had some work in Lawndale that's going to keep her there for a few weeks and was the guest room free? Added to that, Daria had come home when Aunt Amy had shown up and was even whiter than normal for her, claiming to have been fighting a "flu bug" for the past week. Then there was the time a couple of weeks ago she had caught Daria eating carrots and chocolate ice cream, Quinn remembered with a shudder.

Taken separately, they didn't add up to all that much. In fact, if it weren't for Sandi's little revelation, Quinn would never have paid any attention to any of it. There was also the fact that Daria hadn't been seen in school since lunch and had spent most of the day since hiding in that so-called room of hers, until she'd left to meet Jane. What was weirder still was that Aunt Amy was heading back home to pack for a longer stay and was supposed to be back in a day or two.

"Quinn, are you listening?" Sandi's pseudo-valley girl voice sliced into her thoughts.

"Huh?" Quinn shook herself back to the present. She noticed that the show was over and the credits were rolling. "I'm sorry, Sandi. I was, uh, thinking how unselfish those models were. What were you saying?"

"Kuh-winn, we were discussing how the Fashion Club, as a prominent extracurricular organization at Lawndale High, could lend it's name to a worthy cause for the people," Sandi repeated with a scowl.

"Oh, uh," Quinn thought furiously for a moment. "Like the girls' soccer team and their adopt a highway sign?"

"Eww. Picking up trash on the side of the road?" Tiffany looked nauseous at the thought.

"Quinn, I haven't been convicted of anything. Have you?" Sandi asked with a dirty look. "Besides, why have a sign, when you can have a plaque."

"Wow! A plaque?" Stacy nearly squeaked.

"Exactly! Mounted on something appropriate for our beatification image, like . . . a park bench!"

"But then, wouldn't people be putting their butts on us?" Tiffany asked.

"Ew," Stacy commented, wrinkling her nose. 

"How about a new mirror in the girls bathroom?" Quinn suggested, slowly warming to the subject. "You know, to replace the one that adds at least two pounds."

"I hate that mirror," Stacy said.

"It haunts me," Tiffany chimed in, ever concerned about her outward appearance.

"That's a good idea, Quinn. Some girls around school might just need a mirror that subtracts a little weight in a few months," Sandi said, cocking her eyebrow at Quinn. "And besides, donating a new mirror will reflect well on us."

Silence.

"_Reflect_ well on us?" Sandi repeated.

"Ohh," Quinn commented, getting the joke and wishing she hadn't.

The reaction from the rest was lukewarm to say the least.

~~~~~~

Daria and Jane had decided to skip their usual after school pizza the next day, mostly because Daria's stomach was becoming more and more sensitive to it, and walked a roundabout path home. Daria's main reason, however, was that she desperately needed some kind of strategy for broaching the subject of her condition with Tom. She had shown Jane some of the scenarios she had thought through the night before. Jane was trying to be helpful, coming up with ways of trying to open the subject for discussion, but none of what either of the girls had come up with looked like it would end in anything but a disaster.

"Just admit it," Daria said after they finished going over their twentieth 'what if.' "You think I'm a coward for not coming right out and saying it."

"Why do you say that?"

"You increasingly obvious attempts to get me to just go up to him and say it," Daria said. "Jump in with both feet and all that."

"First of all, I don't think that you're a coward, you're just scared. And justifiably so," Jane said. "Second, I just think that this is something that the two of you will have to sit down and talk about outright."

"It's all right if you think that these are bad ideas you know. In fact, I don't even like any of them," Daria sighed. "This whole idea stinks. How the hell am I supposed to tell him that he's going to be a . . .That I'm . . ."

"Just like that," Jane said. "Look, I'm not the one that you need to be talking to about this. I already know, so you're comfortable talking about it around me. Your Aunt Amy, so far, has been the one person who's reacted positively to this whole situation, so you're pretty comfortable about talking to her about it. There is one person that doesn't know and that you have to get comfortable talking about it around, and that's Tom."

"Jane, I've tried," Daria said. "I've picked up the phone a hundred times over the past few days. Every time I start to dial the number, I get to thinking about how going up there was my idea and how he's going to blame me for screwing up the rest of his life."

"It's not just _his _life that's being affected here, Daria," Jane pointed out. "Whatever his reaction's gonna be, he needs to take responsibility for what happens, and that means taking care of the two of you."

"Look, Jane, I told you before that I'm not sure I want him taking care of us. I can do that well enough on my own," Daria said, not believing a word she was saying.

"Uh huh." Jane didn't believe it either.

Daria sighed as she spied her house in the distance.

"I need to take a break from this, okay? I'll see you in school tomorrow," Daria said as she split off from her friend. She looked back at Jane, who was looking a little distressed after her. "It's all right, Jane. It's not you. I just need some time to think. Okay?"

"Okay, You'll call me later?"

Daria just shrugged as she walked off.

~~~~~~

Daria trudged into the living room and sat down on the sofa facing the television. She knew "Sick, Sad World" was starting soon, but couldn't muster the interest to track down the remote control. Instead, she sat there, closed her eyes, and tried to imaging how she would bring up the subject of her pregnancy with Tom. Daria hadn't exactly told the whole truth to Jane. She'd actually written a couple of 'what ifs' that had turned out pretty well. She just didn't feel like they actually rang true to what she knew of Tom. He'd freak, she was sure of it. Beyond that, the possibilities ran the gamut from his accusing her of planning the whole thing and deliberately getting pregnant, to Tom's simply walking out and never looking back.

__

Actually, that might be the easiest one to deal with, Daria thought. _There'd be one more option open to me. All I would have to do is make one more trip down to that clinic and . . ._

And I'd never be able to look myself in the face again. Daria's face fell. _What carries the greater stigma? Being an eighteen-year-old mother, or being an eighteen-year-old mother who terminated her pregnancy? There's always adoption, but . . . _Daria sighed. _I guess I'm screwed whatever I do._

Daria's train of thought was derailed by her father entering the living room. He had one of his work shirts and was fumbling around with a needle and thread. As she watched, Jake squinted at his work and tried four times to thread the needle, each time missing by a mile. Daria knew he was nearsighted, and silently wished he'd just swallow his pride and get his eyes checked, get some glasses, and get it over with. But she knew full well that Jake would turn it into a rant about something his father had done in the past, and Daria didn't want to deal with that right now at all.

"Dammit! Why do they have to make the eye of the needle so darn small?" Jake grumbled loudly and he sat down next to Daria.

"I guess to piss off the camel," Daria said, reaching out.

"Thanks, kiddo," Jake said. He handed the needle and thread to Daria and she got it in the first shot.

"Just happy to find something that I can do," Daria said as she handed the now threaded needle back. "Unlike talking to Tom."

"Good for you kiddo!" Jake said, looking around for something. "Now, where the hell did I do with that button?" Then Daria's statement filtered past the immediate subject. "Huh? Why can't you talk to Tom?"

"It's not important. Forget I mentioned it. I don't want to talk about it." _At least not without putting you under some very heavy sedation first._ "It's just that . . . There something that's really important that I have to talk to Tom about, but every time I try and bring it up, something happens and we don't get to talk about it."

"I bet it was someone like that busybody teacher Corporal Ellenbogen who kept butting in," Jake said with a frown. "Every time you want to have a conversation, he's right there sticking his own two damn cents in!"

"Uh, Dad?"

" 'You didn't come here to be another Gilbert and Sullivan, soldier! Now get that foxhole dug! The school play will take care of itself!' " Jake went off. " 'What the hell you standing around gabbing for, soldier! That latrine needs to be scrubbed!' "

"Dad, that's not quite what . . ."

"You can't just sit in the mess hall and shoot the breeze like normal people! Oh, no! One word of casual conversation leaks out and there's Ellenbogen telling you that you have to scrub the barracks with your brand new toothbrush! I mean, I barely used it twice and _bang_ I'm polishing the floor with it! He wouldn't even let me get a new one from the PX before lights out!"

Daria sighed, stood up and made for the solitude of her bedroom. That was definitely not the way she wanted that conversation to go. But she figured that talking to Tom couldn't get any worse.

~~~~~~

"Alright," Sandi was saying to the members of the Fashion Club assembled in her bedroom. "Now that we've agreed to donate a new girls room mirror, the next order of business is to figure out how to pay for it."

"Oh, yeah," Tiffany said from her seat on Sandi's bed. She really hadn't thought about that.

"We could hold a yard sale," Stacy suggested after a moment.

"Stacy, are you suggesting that we sit at a _card table _and _haggle_?" Sandi said in a voice that dripped disgust as she cocked an eyebrow at the club secretary.

"Oh, God, what's wrong with me?" Stacy whimpered.

"Why don't we do what we do best?" Quinn asked as she straightened up from where she was leaning on the wall.

"Quinn, no one is going to pay to watch us eat carrot sticks," Sandi said dryly. "However I am pleased that you are paying more attention at this meeting than the last one."

"_I mean_, tell people what's wrong with their outfits." Quinn frowned briefly.

"Buuut, we do that all day for free," Tiffany pointed out. "That's why everyone likes us."

"Well, we could put it down on paper. Sell our own newsletter offering advice to fashion victims," Quinn suggested. "And we could predict fashion trends. People would actually save money buying our newsletter by not getting things in the wrong fabric or belt width."

"A commendable idea, Quinn. All in favor?" Sandi looked over the gathering and saw that all hands were raised. "Then I guess we should decide which topics to cover."

"Boy, this volunteering is going to be a lot of work!" Stacy said.

"Yeah, some should really pay us for it," Tiffany observed.

"The floor is open for suggestions," Sandi said.

"Huh?" Tiffany looked at the floor between her feet.

"Skirt lengths are getting longer. Maybe we should do an article on that?" Stacy asked meekly.

"Yeah, and with spring coming up, people are going to be looking to coordinate their makeup with the new fashions that will be coming out," Quinn put in.

"Perhaps something on the colors best appropriate for the early spring party seasons," Sandi said.

"Yeah!" Stacy said writing furiously on her notepad.

"We could do an article on contouring your eyes the right way," Tiffany said.

"Perhaps we should do a piece on moral fashionability also," Sandi said. She looked thoughtful, but the glance she cast at Quinn said otherwise. "As a prominent publication for the school community, we would have certain responsibilities as well."

"Huh?" Tiffany tilted her head.

"What do you mean?" Stacy stopped writing and said.

Quinn, however, had a sick feeling that she knew exactly what Sandi was talking about.

"Perhaps a piece on how to avoid certain types of behavior that would lower one's social standing unacceptably," Sandi suggested.

"Such as?" Quinn asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Such as piercing in inappropriate places, distasteful or controversial tattoos," Sandi paused and twisted the knife a little more. "Certain _activities _that might lead to certain _conditions _that last for nine months."

"What's wrong with conditioners?" Tiffany asked, missing the point.

"Eww," Stacy said, making more notes. She got it. "Who would, uh. . . be in _that _condition?"

"Sandi, ix-nay!" Quinn whispered through a clenched jaw. It was just loud enough for Sandi to look up at her.

"I am sorry, I am not permitted to say. I was approached in secrecy about this issue, and may have said too much already," Sandi said, putting her nose up in the air and shot Quinn another evil look before quickly masking it. "Besides, I'm not even sure that any of her _relatives _know for sure, _yet, _and I have no wish to start unsubstantiated rumors."

"Yeah, that kind of thing just isn't nice," Tiffany said,

__

Finally, she puts two and two together and comes up with something other than three and a half, Quinn thought with an inward sigh of relief, her jaw relaxing slightly.

"I wonder who it could be?" Tiffany asked, wide eyed.

__

And maybe she doesn't. Quinn's jaw tightened up again.

"It's got to be that girl with the frosted dye job in our math class," Stacy said, looking as if she were ready to burst. "You know what I heard about her? I heard that she . . ."

Quinn tuned Stacy out as she went on and on. As Sandi and Tiffany sat and listened to Stacy, none of them noticed the look that Quinn was giving their club president.

It could have shattered concrete.

~~~~~~

Helen had come home after a long day at work and had found Jake in the living room, sitting in the dark with a martini in his hand and mumbling a string of epithets. They seemed to be directed at Corporal Ellenbogen, an old teacher of his from military school who occasionally replaced his father as the target of Jake's ravings. Helen had to wonder what had set him off this time.

__

So hard to tell what will set Jake off these days, Helen thought. _Probably something he read in the paper, or maybe saw on television. Hmph. Sometimes even the off hand remarks that the girls make . . .The girls!_

"Jake?" Helen called out as she walked into the room and turned on the lights. "Jake!"

"Huh?"

"Where are the girls?" Helen asked hotly. _Almost nine p.m., and he's sitting alone in the dark with no clue what his daughters are doing! Typical!_

"Uh, Quinn's, um, somewhere," Jake said, slowly coming back to the present. "And, um, Daria's up in her room with, uh, with Tom!"

"Jake, how long have they been up there?" Helen asked, her imagination going into overdrive again.

"Helen, have we ever just sat down and talked?" Jake asked. "You know, just shot the breeze about nothing?"

"If I say I don't want them in there alone, I might give them ideas," Helen said, wracking her brain for a plausible excuse to keep an eye on them. "I know! Snacks!"

Jake polished off the last of his drink as Helen headed of to gather some snacks for Tom and Daria, ostensibly. Meanwhile, Jake had returned to his own little world.

"You know, it's just a great day to sit out her and converse. Looks a little cloudy, think it's going to rain?" Jake went on, his voice getting harder and angrier. "Maybe if it does, that damn Corporal Ellenbogen'll get _struck by lightning!!"_

Up in Daria's room, She a Tom were sitting in a tense silence. Daria sat cross-legged on the floor, idly turning a box of pencils over in her hands, while Tom sat in the desk chair facing her a little ways away. She had asked Tom over to try and talk about their situation, but now that he was here, she was having a hard time talking to him at all.

"So, Daria," Tom finally asked. "Is something on your mind?"

"Um, why do you ask?" Daria looked nervous.

"Well, we've been sitting here for ten minutes and all you've done is turn that box in your hands around and around about a dozen times." Tom leaned forward in the chair. "Would this have anything to do with what you wanted to talk about earlier this week?"

"Um, yeah, actually, it, uh," Daria stammered and decided to change her approach to the subject slightly. "Tom, how come you couldn't come and see me last weekend?"

"That? Mom and Dad decided that it was time to suck up to some dean form Bromwell University," Tom explained with a shrug. "It seems that it's a Sloane tradition to go to Bromwell. Personally I couldn't care less where I go to college, but I guess you've gotta go someplace."

"Yeah, someplace," Daria said, her own half formed plans for college briefly rising to the forefront of her mind. "So, why couldn't you get out of it?"

"Well, Mom wouldn't hear of it, for one thing," Tom replied. "She can be a pretty stubborn person when she gets those kinds of ideas in her head."

"Oh, Tom! I didn't know you were here!" Helen said with faux surprise as she opened the door to Daria's room.

__

Speak of the devil, Daria thought.

"Are you two hungry?" Helen asked, talking a little faster than was normal for her. "I could get you some chackers and creese -- uh, crackers and cheese! And crackers! I'll be right back!"

As Helen walked back out of the room, pointedly leaving the door open, Daria rolled her eyes and shook her head. It was like she was telling her father, every time she tried to have this conversation, something or someone reared their ugly head right in the middle of things.

"Anyway," Tom said with an almost concealed eye roll of his own. "Dad had pretty much told me that there was no way out of it when you called to talk the first time. But I figured that I could talk my way out of it somehow once we got through most of the dinner. I did call, you know."

"Yeah, you did," Daria looked down at the box. "Thanks for trying, by the way."

"You're welcome. Sorry I couldn't have succeeded," Tom said quietly. "Did you want to talk about it now?"

"Uh, yes, I do, but, um . . ." Daria started to say. _Come on, mouth! Just say "Tom, I'm pregnant, and being as you're the only person that I've ever had sex with and you used a condom that had leaked, you're the father." Do it all in one breath and it's over with!_

"Daria, are you okay?" Tom asked, noticing the somewhat panicked expression on Daria's face. "Whatever it is you want to say to me, it's alright."

"Tom . . . what, um," Daria swallowed. "What kind of plans did you have for after college?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I thought I'd figure it out when I got there."

"Nothing that you really had your sights set on doing?" Daria asked. "Not going to work with your father or something like that?"

"I don't know. Once I'm out of college, I'll be pretty much on my own. I'm sure that Dad would like it if I joined the firm, but I was never really planning on it." Tom cocked an eyebrow. "What, you were worried about our lives after college?"

"Well, sort of," Daria said. "You see, I really hadn't thought too much about college until recently and --"

"Tom, Daria!" Helen said as she came back into the room with a tray of crackers and hastily cut chunks of cheese. "Here you go!"

__

Dammit!! You couldn't have taken five more freaking minutes!? Daria thought, then mentally suppressed a string of curses that would have gotten her grounded till graduation if she said them out loud.

"So, did I hear you kids talking about college?" Helen asked as she set the tray on Daria's bed.

"Actually we were having a discussion on how ill timed parental interruptions make it impossible to have a coherent conversation like two normal young adults," Daria said with a scowl.

"Well, I, um . . ." Helen started to say.

"Uh, thanks for the snacks, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Tom said, trying to defuse the suddenly tense mood

"You're welcome, Tom," Helen said as she slowly backed out of the room. "I'll just be going over some paperwork in the bedroom if you need anything."

Daria got up and made a point of shutting the bedroom door loudly as her mother walked down the hall. She stood there for a moment and counted to ten before hauling her right leg back and kicking the door as hard as she could swing her boot. The impact elicited a startled "Eep!" from Helen, just on the other side of the door. Daria waited until she heard Helen walk down the hall before turning back to Tom.

"What's with your Mom?" Tom asked, genuinely worried for Daria.

"I don't know. She's been on this kick ever since she heard that my cousin Erin and her husband were having problems," Daria said with a sigh, her shoulders slumping. "Tom, I know I asked you over here to talk, but . . . Can we just watch television or something instead?"

"Sure," Tom said, standing up and walking over to the bed.

Tom slid onto the bed and leaned up against the padding on the wall as Daria collected the remote. She slid up beside him and started flipping through channels, with no real destination in mind. Finally she settled on one of the classic movie channels and leaned back next to Tom to try to relax. Tom raised an eyebrow when Daria and put her head on his shoulder and leaned heavily on him. Tom put his arm around Daria's shoulder and lay his cheek on the top of her head, offering what comfort he could.

__

I wish you would talk to me, Daria, Tom thought, looking worried. _Whatever it is that's bothering you, I'm beginning to think that I'm the cause. I would have liked to have thought that I had a little more of your confidence, all things considered. But I guess that kind of intimacy takes time, too._

~~~~~~

The next day at school, Daria and Jane watched as the Fashion Club debuted their newsletter that they had been working on all weekend. Daria had snuck a look at a completed copy of what they were calling the _Fashion Forecast_, and had to grudgingly admit that they had done a pretty good job. Now it was simply a matter of seeing how well it would sell to the crowd that consisted mostly of boys who were gathering around the table. Daria figured that the guys were schlepping for a date with Quinn, most likely, rather than having any interest in what was being sold. She and Jane managed to ignore the crowd and collect some stuff for from their lockers for the next class until Joey, Jamie, and Jeffy came by eyeing their purchases with varying degrees of confusion and disdain.

"An Ode to Aubergine?" Joey said in confusion.

"Good Pluck?" Jamie said, equally stymied.

"Please Remember to Blush?" Jeffy sounded somewhat disgusted.

Daria and Jane indifferently watched the three football players walk by.

"There must be a lot going on in the boys room that we don't know about," Jane said dryly and with a slight shake of her head.

"And really, isn't that as it should be?" Daria replied, looking over at the crowd that was buying up their own copies of the _Fashion Forecast._

"So, how did your conversation with Tom go?" Jane asked as the two started walking.

"It didn't," Daria sighed. "We started to try and talk around the subject, but I just couldn't talk about it directly. I think we would have gotten to it eventually, but Mom decided that she needed to stick her nose in where it didn't belong under the guise of delivering snacks. If that wasn't enough to shatter my resolve completely, every time we left the room for anything, there was Mom ducking back into her bedroom. I felt like she was listening at the door with a stethoscope half the night."

"Yeah, that would do it," Jane said, glancing back over her shoulder. "Have you thought about getting Quinn to help you by keeping your mom busy . . . Never mind. Bad idea."

"No kidding. I'd have to explain why, and then the whole school would know. It would be quicker to take out a full page ad in the paper and skip the middle-man," Daria frowned. "Besides, it would require her to think about someone besides herself for a change."

"Perish that thought," Jane said, wishing she could do more. "When's your Aunt due back?"

"Another day or so. She told Mom that she had some work with the museum that would keep her in Lawndale for a few weeks, now she has to actually come up with something that looks legitimate."

Along their way down the corridor they had to pass by the Fashion Club's table. Most of the guys just out for a date had either done or saw what they came to hand had disappeared back into the wood work. This had left several girls looking over the newsletter and conversing with the fashionistas over the content of the publication. Most notable in the gathering was Jodie Landon, as well as Niki and Angie from the cheerleading squad.

"Say, Quinn," Sandi said in a voice that was just slightly too loud. "Maybe your little relative or whatever could use a _free_ copy of our newsletter, what with her _condition_ and all -- OW! Quinn!"

"I'm sorry, Sandi, I didn't see your foot there!"

Daria and Jane tried their best to ignore Sandi's statement. However, when Jane looked at Daria, it seemed that her Best Friend looked as if she wanted to throw up from something other than morning sickness.

~~~~~~

All through Language Arts, Daria's stress level was slowly climbing as she pondered Sandi's remark. She inexorably had come to the conclusion that Sandi knew something, but couldn't figure out where she would have gotten her information. It wasn't until after class that Daria had an actual chance to vent her frustration over what Sandi had said to Jane.

"Look, Daria, I'm sure Sandi said that just to be Sandi," Jane was saying as she took a book from her locker and put in her backpack. "She's probably blowing smoke up your skirt just to see if she gets a reaction."

"I wish it were that easy to dismiss," Daria said, leaning on the locker bank. "But I know Sandi knows something. Quinn knows something too, or she wouldn't have stepped on Sandi's foot back there. This only presents the questions of who found out what, when, and who told whom?"

"Hey, Daria," Jodie said as she walked up. "You might want to know that Sandi's little announcement back there has started some people talking."

"Sounds like evolution has caught up to the football team," Daria said dryly. "The Neanderthal's had better watch out."

"They better, 'cuz the Lions are gonna kick their butts!" Kevin crowed defiantly as he and Brittany walked up to the little gathering.

"Yeah! Go team!" Brittany squeaked, then looked at Kevin. "Uh, babe? I didn't know we had a game."

"Oh brother," Daria muttered.

"Oh, hey Daria, I was gonna ask you something," Kevin said, scratching the back of his head with his ever-present football. "When did you get your, you know, condition?"

"My _what_?" Daria asked in a voice so cold that it could have cracked Plexiglas.

"Yeah," Brittany put in. "Did you guys, like, get into it and forget to use a, well . . . you know. Because there's things that you can do afterwards if you forget."

"Yeah," Kevin chuckled, elbowing Jodie. "I guess even a brain can get caught up in the heat of the minute when the blood gets a-pumpin' and the bodies start a-bumpin', huh Jodie?"

"Kevin," Jodie sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"You know something, Kevin, I never thought it was possible, but you have just managed to sink _beneath _even the lowest possible opinion anyone's ever had for you." Daria snapped off her words like a burst from a fifty-caliber machine gun, fists clenched at her sides. "You don't bother to think. You don't even _try _to show any semblance of tact. You just open your big mouth and display your ignorance to the rest of the world. So why don't you just get the hell out of my face and go play with something shiny for a while. I hear that there's a nickel in the middle of the freeway."

Daria stormed off, a wide eyed Jane in tow, leaving behind an equally flatfooted Jodie and Brittany. Kevin, as usual, had no clue just how close he had come to getting his front teeth handed to him

"Whoa! Guess her 'condition' is that time of the month!" Kevin exclaimed.

"God, Kevin, you are such a jerk!" Brittany said, then turned to Jodie. "What's gotten into her? I've never seen her _that _mad."

"You got me," Jodie said as she watched Daria and Jane disappear down the corridor. "But I'm not sure that this would be exactly the right time to ask her."

~~~~~~

The run-in with Kevin, combined with Sandi's semi-public attempt to humiliate Daria had served to ruin the rest of her day. She and Jane had gotten together for their usual after school slice to commiserate and plot their revenge. One slice had turned into two and then into a full blown pizza binge, which had left Daria with a hell of a case of heartburn that did nothing for her temper.

She had managed to arrive home about five minutes before the Fashion Club had arrived and began to set up shop in the living room. After a quick trip to the upstairs bathroom for some antacids, Daria headed back in the general direction of her bedroom to start on her homework. She hadn't really been able to concentrate that afternoon, and hopefully she could get the lion's share of it done before dinner.

As she walked out of the bathroom, she stopped and briefly glanced into her parents' room when she heard her father mumbling something that had to be a string of epithets. Jake was sitting on the bed with several cars from his model train set spread out around him. He was working on a replica of a passenger carriage, alternately holding it almost up to his nose and at full arms length. She was about to go in and help her father when the doorbell rang.

"Daria! Aunt Amy's here!" Quinn's voice echoed through the house.

Daria figured that her father could be best left to his own devices and headed downstairs to greet her aunt. As she headed down the stairs, she saw that Amy had brought a couple of very large suitcases in with her and was eyeing the gathering of the Fashion Club with a measure of disdain.

"Hi Amy," Daria said as she descended the stairs.

"Hey Daria," Amy replied, nodding her head towards Quinn and company. "What's all this about?"

"The Fashion Club is making a foray into newsletter publications and they want to see what fabrics go well with printers ink," Daria said. "Let's head into the kitchen."

"Sure thing, I --"

"_Oh no!!_" Quinn's cry cut off Amy's words.

"Okay, I'll bite," Amy said as she and Daria exchanged a glance. "What's wrong?"

"Look at this! All out fashion predictions were completely wrong!" Quinn moaned as she read from the latest issue of _Waif_. "Hems hike up, heels fall down, tweezing isn't pleasing, and dark colors like aubergine are over!"

"Who would have thought that brightly comic tones like peach and lemon would suddenly come into vogue!" Sandi grieved, reading over Quinn's shoulder. Sandi got up and walked over to the front window, hanging her head. "I need to be alone."

"This is sooo saaad," Tiffany drawled as she reached for a tissue.

"Why does everything always happen to us?" Stacy nearly wailed, grabbing a tissue of her own. She was oblivious to the dark look that Daria was giving her from behind.

"Okay, I know I'm really going to regret asking this, but what's going on?" Amy asked as she walked up behind the girls.

"They just found out that the 'Wide World of Wool' is going to be preempted by a state of the union address," Daria said.

"Even worse! We'd just put out our own newsletter, and now _Waif's_ 'What's Hot and What's Rot' issue just came out and what we thought was out and in is not and not and now our careers as fashion prognosticators are _over_!" Quinn sobbed.

Amy turned to Daria with an 'is she kidding?' look on her face.

"We'd better go lower the flag to half staff," Daria said. "Think you can play taps on the kazoo?"

"Oh please!" Sandi said from over by the window. "Just because the two of you don't care how you're seen by the rest of the public is no reason for you to trash those of us who do."

"What are you talking about?" Amy asked.

"Oh, like you don't already _know _what you're little _niece _or whatever has been up to," Sandi said with a knowing look at Daria.

"_Sandi!_" Quinn whispered harshly from the sofa.

Daria looked angrily from one girl to the other before she whirled and stormed off in to the kitchen. Amy turned and followed Daria, looking over her shoulder at the gathered girls. She had a pretty good idea of what just happened, and hoped that it could be dealt with before it got out of control. Amy caught up with Daria as she stood by the kitchen sliding doors. Her arms were crossed in front of her and she had the look of a person at the end of her rope.

"Daria?" Amy asked.

"Sandi knows," Daria said.

"How?"

"I don't know. I don't even know how she could have found out," Daria said. "Quinn might suspect, but she seems to be trying to keep it quiet for her own popularity's sake."

"You want me to talk to them?"

"No, I . . ." Daria paused for a moment, then pulled the sliding door open. "I need some air."

Amy stood there and watched her niece walk out across the yard and towards the front of the house, crossing her arms against the sudden breeze that invaded the house.

~~~~~~

Daria walked through the streets of Lawndale without really seeing where she was going. Her mind kept going around in circles as she tried to deal with what had just happened. She kept going back and forth between Sandi and Quinn and what they knew or didn't know. It was only a matter of time before Sandi's little pronouncement got the rumor mills spinning at full speed. It was obvious that Quinn knew, or at least suspected something, the way she kept trying to keep Sandi quiet.

Regardless of who had known what first, it was sure that Sandi had said just enough at the right time to get the mills moving. Sooner or later, it would jump schools from Lawndale to Fielding Prep, as rumors of that nature were want to do. In fact, Daria had heard a few of them through Tom, and she also knew that students from both schools freely mixed all over town. Eventually a Lawndale student would tell a friend at Fielding that ol' Tom Sloane's girlfriend was knocked up and trying to keep it a secret. That tidbit would find Tom, and Tom would find Daria. She glowered to herself as that particular scenario played through her head, knowing that it would end worse than badly. She would have to tell him, and tell him soon.

Daria looked up finally and saw that her wanderings had taken her past Crewe Neck and up to the private drive that lead to the Sloane's house. Tom certainly knew by now that there was something bothering Daria, but had made no real attempts to find out what that was, Daria concluded.

__

What the hell is up with that? Daria thought as she walked up the path to their door. Mustering her frustration, she mashed the doorbell button with her thumb. It was only a moment or two before the door opened to reveal Tom.

"Daria! Come in," Tom said as he gestured with his arm. When Daria just stood there glaring at him, he switched tracks. "Is everything okay?"

"No, everything's not okay," Daria folded her arms and looked at the toes of her boots with a frown.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked after Daria was silent for a moment.

"I've been trying to talk to you all week about something important and every time I try something comes up and we never get to have that conversation." Daria looked up with a glare that dripped ice. "If it's not my mother and her overwhelming need to make sure that there's two feet of daylight between us, _you're _off someplace kissing up to some college dean even though you're a shoe-in to be accepted!"

"Huh?" Tom blinked in surprise. "Hold on a second. I know something's been upsetting you the last few days. I figured that you'd tell me about it in your own way when you were ready."

"What do you think I've been _trying_ to do??" Daria snapped. "Every time I try and give you an opening to ask 'What's wrong, Daria?' you refuse to take the opportunity. God, you're insensitive!"

"Daria, you're not getting it." Tom tried to explain reasonably, but was slowly losing his cool. "You could have told me twice on the telephone and again when I was over at your house a couple of days ago, but you didn't. And I'm not being insensitive, I'm trying to be supportive and I'm trying to be patient, but you're not making it any easier."

"How can I make it easier if you won't at least try to meet me halfway?" Daria turned and started to walk away. "You never wanted to know what was bothering me to begin with, so why the hell should I tell you now? See ya."

"Dammit, Daria! Why don't you just grow up?" Tom snapped, his temper finally slipping. Daria didn't even bother to turn around. "Or not."

Tom closed the door behind him, barely able to keep himself from slamming it. He leaned on the door for a moment and took a couple of deep breaths before he straightened up and headed for the stairs.

__

Dammit, Tom, you really screwed the pooch on that one, Tom thought as he began climbing the stairs. _You'll be lucky if she ever talks to you again after this._

When he got to the top of the stairs, he saw his sister Elsie leaning on the doorframe outside her bedroom. He could see by the look on her face that she had heard every word of Tom and Daria's argument.

"What's the matter, big brother," Elsie asked with a smirk. "Lovers' quarrel?"

"Oh . . . shut up," Tom said as he turned into his own bedroom and locked the door behind him.

"Yep," Elsie said to herself as she heard the lock click into place. "Lovers' quarrel."

~~~~~~

With the demise of the F_ashion Forecast_, and the subsequent refunding of almost all of the money that they had raised for their new mirror, the Fashion Club was relegated to trash duty on what little remained of their lunch hour. That meant Quinn, Stacy, and Tiffany got to carry out the bundles of newsletters to the trash bins behind the school while Sandi supervised. Donning yellow rubber gloves, the three other members began tossing the bundles into the dumpster.

"These dumpsters are guh-ross!" Tiffany groaned as she passed a bundle to Stacy, who, under Sandi's watchful glare, hiked it up and into the bin where it landed with a wet thump.

Stacy peeked over the edge of the bin, curiosity winning out over disgust, to see what had made the noise.

"What do you think this stuff is that looks like vomit?" Stacy asked before she realized she had said it out loud.

"Eeww! Stacy!" Quinn exclaimed.

"Probably just that," Sandi said with a glance at Quinn. "Maybe your little relative or whatever made a stop back here before school."

"Sandi, that's not funny!" Quinn glared, her fists on her hips.

"Well, isn't that what people in her condition do in the morning?" Sandi said with a look that defied Quinn to balk.

"What do you..." Stacy started to say, but stopped when Sandi turned that glare on her. "Eep! Sorry!"

"_At any rate_," Quinn said in a hard tone, taking back control of the subject of the conversation. "It doesn't look like we're going to make our fundraising goal."

"It's just so unfair that you have to do something to get a plaque," Stacy said, looking disappointed.

Sandi's glare turned into a thoughtful expression as what Stacy had said sank in. Who said that they had to actually do something anyway?

"Hmm." Sandi cocked an eyebrow as an idea began forming in her mind.

~~~~~~

Daria sat at her usual place at the kitchen table, staring into a glass of lemonade that had long ago warmed to room temperature. Her fight with Tom yesterday had left a huge emotional wound and now she wasn't sure that she would be able to look him in the eye again. And the worst part of it was that Tom hadn't done anything to deserve the roasting that Daria had given him the night before -- and she knew it.

"Hey, Daria," Amy said as she walked into the kitchen with her laptop computer under her arm. "You're usually not home this early, are you? Don't you usually hang out with Jane after school?"

"Mmm," Daria shrugged. "I needed to be by myself for a while."

"What happened?" Amy asked as she sat down in Helen's usual spot.

"Aunt Amy, I think I really screwed things up between me and Tom yesterday." Daria looked at Amy with barely disguised confusion and sorrow. "Last night when I went out walking, I wound up over at Tom's. I basically read him a riot act and told him that it was all his fault that we haven't had the chance to talk."

"Oh boy," Amy said with raised eyebrows.

"How am I supposed to tell him now?" Daria looked back into her glass. "I didn't know what he was going to think of me before, so what's he going to think of me now? I might as well forget it and just go through all of this alone anyway."

"You're not going through all of this alone," Amy said with a comforting hand on Daria's shoulder.

"Feels like it."

"Well, you're not. Meanwhile, the first thing that you have to do is pick up that phone and get Tom over here. Then you tell him why you went off on him and apologize. Then you tell him about . . . you."

"What about Mom?" Daria asked. "Every time Tom's been over here she's on us like a starving cheetah on a wounded antelope."

"You let me worry about your Mom," Amy said with half a smile. "If it makes you feel any better, call Jane over too. That way there'll be two of us to sit on my tightly wound sister."

"I guess." Daria stood up listlessly. "I'm going to go up and make this call from my room."

"I'll keep an eye out on Helen when she shows up," Amy said as Daria started to walk out. "Don't worry. Everything will work out."

"Let's hope," Daria said as she turned the corner and disappeared form sight.

With a sigh, Amy leaned heavily on the kitchen table.

__

Yeah, she thought. _Let's hope._

~~~~~~

As Daria topped the stairs and began to head for her bedroom, she heard the sound of her father grumbling to himself coming from the master bedroom. She was about to keep on walking when . . .

"Dammit, I give up!!" Jake shouted. "Why the hell do they have to make these things so small!"

Daria stopped and sighed. She knew she'd never get any peace for this particular call if she didn't deal with her father first. She turned and stepped in to the master bedroom to see Jake standing over several cars from his train set, spread out across the bed. The passenger carriage that he had been working on yesterday was in several dozen pieces. He was trying to do some work with a fine screwdriver but, as Daria watched, he only managed to poke himself in the hand.

"Ouch! Dammit!" Jake looked at the floor as a wheel dropped from his grip. "Where the hell . . .?"

Daria walked in and picked up the errant wheel from the floor next to Jake's shoe before he had a chance to step on it.

"Here you go, Dad," she said as she handed him the part.

"Thanks, kiddo," Jake said with a grateful smile. "They're making these things smaller and smaller every day."

"Um, yeah," Daria said as she saw her father go back to work on the wheel assembly, holding it only a few inches from the end of his nose. "Dad? Did you ever think that it might not be the item that's getting smaller, but that you're just not seeing it all that well?"

"What do you mean?" Jake looked over at his oldest daughter.

"Well, you keep holding everything either at arms length or right in front of your eyes like I did when I was a kid," Daria pointed out. "It's like when you tried to make lasagna that time and didn't read the instructions right. Or when you start reading the back of the cereal box some mornings."

"They just print those things so damn small," Jake said as he put down the parts he was working on. "And the lasagna thing wasn't my fault. The label was smeared!"

"Dad, there's nothing wrong with admitting that you're having vision problems," Daria said. "Things like that happen, and there's no shame in talking to someone about it."

"You know, you're right kiddo," Jake said quietly as he sat down on the bed, careful not to crush anything. "It's just that, well, it's one of the things that says that you're getting older. And I really don't need any more reminders of that."

"Nobody needs to be reminded of that. Besides, it's like when Mom kept bugging me about getting contacts. I will admit, grudgingly, that there are times that they have their uses," Daria said, remembering her little trip to the clinic a few days ago. "There's nothing wrong with having glasses, just like there's nothing wrong with wearing contacts."

Jake looked at his daughter for a long moment, considering what she had said. He remembered hearing Helen tell of all the problems that she had convincing Daria to even go in and get fitted for the contacts. Once the bugs were ironed out with her prescription, she even wore them once in a while, at lease when practicality dictated that her glasses would be more of a hindrance than a help.

"You know what, kiddo, you're right," Jake said, straightening up. "It took a lot of guts for you to go in and get those contacts, even though you didn't want 'em. And it takes a lot of guts to tell someone something that they really don't want to hear, even though it's for their own good. The least I can do is have the guts to go in and see if I need 'em. And if I do, then I'm in pretty good company, then."

"Thanks, Dad," Daria said with a slight smirk/smile.

"Y'know, Daria, I wouldn't be able to do a lot of stuff around here without your help." Jake stood up. "There's an optometrist in my office building who just happens to be one of my clients. I think I'm gonna give him a call. Now where'd I put his number?"

Daria watched her father walk out of the bedroom. She knew that he hadn't wanted to deal with the fact that he might need glasses someday, but he had handled that conversation better than she thought he would have.

__

Now to find out if Tom takes his news as well, Daria thought as she headed for her bedroom.

~~~~~~

Quinn stood and looked at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment after Sandi, Stacy, and Tiffany had left. She cast a glance at the plaque that Sandi had affixed to the wall.

__

'We Mean Well,' Quinn silently read the inscription. _Yeah, right!. If you meant well, Sandi, you'd have kept quiet about Daria when I asked you to._

Stacy and Tiffany knew now, Quinn was sure. Neither one of them was so completely stupid to have missed it by now. She wasn't sure how far it had gotten through the school, but sooner or later it would get back to Daria. After that, it was only a matter of time before she came to Quinn. She could only hope that Daria believed her when she said that Sandi had started that particular rumor flying.

__

'It's the thought that counts,' Quinn remembered Sandi saying. _Well, if it's the thought that counts, then I guess I know what you really think, huh, Sandi?_

Quinn turned at the sound of someone leaving one of the stalls to see Andrea turning the corner towards the mirror. She was in the process of pulling a cigarette from a slightly battered pack with two fingers. The two girls looked at each other for a moment before Quinn looked back at her reflection in the mirror. Andrea looked on for a moment more before shrugging and putting the cigarette between her lips and lighting it with an expensive Zippo lighter.

Quinn watched Andrea take a drag off of the cigarette and blow a long jet of smoke towards the air return vent in the ceiling. Andrea didn't seem to notice, or was pointedly ignoring Quinn, as she took another drag.

"Why do you do that?" Quinn asked.

Andrea cocked her head slightly and looked at Quinn from under her long bangs. She blew another jet of smoke at the vent without turning her head. She detected nothing accusatory about Quinn's tone, nor the disgust that she'd come to expect. Just simple curiosity.

"Do what?" Andrea asked, turning her head a little more so that she could look Quinn in the eye, via the mirror.

"Why do you smoke?" Quinn asked again.

"I dunno," Andrea shrugged, facing away from Quinn again. "Something to do. Helps me deal."

"Oh," Quinn said as she turned around and leaned on the sink. She stood there and watched Andrea take another drag off of her cigarette. "Can I have one?"

Andrea looked at Quinn, her Horus-eye makeup slightly distorted under here severely cocked eyebrow.

"I thought that this wasn't something that fashionable little girls did," Andrea said levelly.

"Well, it isn't," Quinn said, flinching a little under Andrea's gaze. "But I need something to help me deal, too."

Andrea pondered this for a moment before taking the cigarette pack out of her dress pocket. She held out the pack to Quinn, who awkwardly took a cigarette out of the pack. She held the paper tube between the knuckles of her first two fingers, like she had seen other women do outside of school, and regarded it for a moment. Part of her was saying that this was a bad idea, but the rest of her didn't care.

Andrea held up her opened Zippo and struck the flint with her thumb. Quinn looked at it for a second before she put the cigarette to her lips and leaned in towards the lighter, putting the end into the flame. She took a dainty puff off the cigarette, it's end glowing red. She coughed a couple of times on the acrid smoke as it burned her throat, but it wasn't as bad as some of the stuff she'd drank at parties in the name of popularity. After she caught her breath for a moment, she took a slightly heartier second drag on her cigarette, managing not to cough.

"Thanks," Quinn said, blowing her own smoke out and leaning back on the sink.

"Any time," Andrea shrugged, and took a drag on her own cigarette.

~~~~~~

"Hello?"

"Uh, hi," Daria said slowly, fighting the urge to hang up the telephone. "Um, I'm cooking up a delicious juicy crow tonight and thought that you might like to come over for a drum stick."

"Oh, I'm not hungry," Tom said from his end of the connection.

Daria's face fell as she waited for the connection to be cut.

". . . But I'll watch you eat," he finished.

"Um, okay," Daria said slowly. "About twenty minutes then?"

"Sure, see you then," Tom said just before he hung up.

Daria looked at the receiver and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. Once he arrived, there was no turning back.

__

There can't _be any turning back,_ Daria thought as she dialed in another number from memory.

"Yo," Jane answered.

"It's me," Daria said." Tom's on his way over."

"You want me to be there?"

"I need you to help my aunt hog tie my mother so Tom and I can have some time to talk," Daria said. "I don't know how long this is going to take, but I'm going to tell him."

"I just got back from my run," Jane said. "Give me a couple of minutes to jump in the shower and I'll be over as quick as I can."

"Hurry, okay?"

"Fast as I can, amiga," Jane said. "See ya in a few."

"Later," Daria hung up the phone and sighed. "Nothing to do now but wait."

She got up and went downstairs to meet her boyfriend when he arrived.

Fifteen minutes later, Tom showed up at the door, making a big deal of sniffing the air as he walked in.

"Mmm, that crow smells good," Tom said as he entered. Then he saw Amy standing by the sofa. "Oh, hello. I'm sorry, if I'd have known you had company . . ."

"Tom, I'd like you to meet my Aunt Amy," Daria introduced. "Amy, this is my hopefully still boyfriend, Tom Sloane."

"A pleasure," Tom said as the two of them shook hands.

"Amy's here to run interference with my Mom while we talk up in my room," Daria said.

"I suspect that we'll be getting to know each other later," Amy said.

"I'm looking forward to it. See you later.," Tom said as Daria started heading up the stairs. Tom followed and kept his peace till they were at the top of the stairs. "You know, it's amazing how much you two look alike."

"Yeah, we haven't been mistaken for mother and daughter, yet, but I suppose that's only a matter of time," Daria said as they entered her room and she shut the door behind them. She walked over to her desk chair and looked at the manila envelope that was laying on its surface. "Well, we both know why I asked you here."

"Not me," Tom said with deliberately cheerful cluelessness. "No idea. None whatsoever."

__

You don't know how right you are, Daria thought as she sat down. "Okay, fine, I deserved that. Look, I'm . . . sorry. You were trying to be patient and supportive. I was the one acting like a total . . . you know."

"Come on, you can do it." Tom was enjoying this far too much. "Rhymes with 'witch?' "

"Oh, shut up." Daria gave Tom a cross look, which immediately softened. "I guess I deserved that, too. So, forgiveness and whatnot?"

"Eh, you've suffered enough," Tom said. "For today."

The door to Daria's room opened at that point to admit Helen's semi-surreptitious glance into the room. When she spotted the two teens, her poorly disguised attempt at secrecy went right out the window.

"Tom! Daria!" Helen said with slightly forced cheeriness. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'll have a big glass of human growth hormone," Daria said flatly, hoping that would dissuade her mother and wondering how the hell she had gotten by Amy.

"Coming right up! -- I mean I'll be back with some snacks," Helen said as she slowly walked out of Daria's room.

"I'd better talk fast, she's been doing speed drills," Daria said, sounding very tired. "It seems that every time I try and talk to you about this, something comes up."

"Well, you Aunt's downstairs and she'll keep your Mom busy. So what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" Tom asked. "You've been acting distant for the last week. I know something's bothering you that you've been very reluctant to talk about. Whatever it is, I want you to know that you can talk to me about it and I'll keep it in the strictest of confidence."

"That's the problem. It's not anything that can be kept in _any _kind of confidence." Daria sighed. "At least not for very long."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Daria started off slowly. "You obviously remember the first time that we, well . . ."

"Were intimate?" Tom said softly. "Of course I do."

"Yeah, I, uh -- "

"Daria, we're out of cheese!" Helen called from below. "Would you like pretzels?"

"Daria, are you still worried about whether I'm in this relationship for the sex?" Tom asked gently. He spoke softly, knowing Helen's radar was on extra high. "I've told you before, that's not the only reason that I'm with you. I'm with you because you're smart and sweet and pretty and have a wonderful sense of humor when you choose to show it. It's not just because of what we do in bed." Tom tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. "Though that's nice, too."

"Just nice? What about the back seat of your car?" Daria asked with a dirty look.

"I have to admit, that was fun too," Tom smiled slightly. In the back of his head he was wondering what the hell was going on. "Look, I'm becoming a little confused here, Daria. What exactly are you working up to?"

"How about some pineapple chunks?" Helen hollered again. "In their own juice or heavy syrup! You decide!"

Daria bit back the urge to scream at her mother to shut the hell up and decided that she had best hurry up and get it over with.

"You know how I've been telling you that I've been fighting a flu bug all week?" Daria asked rhetorically.

"Yeah, your mom said that you picked it up at camp," Tom said with a curious look. "Why?"

"Well, it's not really the flu," Daria said as she picked up the manila envelope from her desk. "And I've had it for more than a week. . . Actually about eleven weeks."

"Oooo-kay, what . . ?" Tom started looking really confused.

"Okay." Daria swallowed once, remembering five eternally long minutes that passed a week ago. "Do you remember when you first met Jane how you two went to Cluster Burger that night?"

~~~~~~

Amy watched from the foot of the stairs as Helen came out of the kitchen with four big cans of pineapple on a tray. Helen has slipped in while Amy had made a quick trip to the downstairs bathroom, and now she had to make up for Helen's additional momentum. She had already been upstairs once, and obviously hadn't walked in on anything major. Now Amy just had to keep her downstairs, but she was having a hell of a time just keeping her form interrupting the kids by hollering up the stairs. 

"Look, Helen, do you really think that they're actually going to buy that?" Amy asked as she cut her sister off on the way to the stairs. She looked down at the contents of the tray and back up to her sister.

"You're right, Amy. What was I thinking?" Helen said, looking at the tray. "They're not going to believe this!"

"Exactly. Now just give those kids a few minutes to talk and -- "

"Rice cakes!" Helen interrupted Amy as the doorbell rang. She turn and sprinted back into the kitchen. "Answer that, will you?"

"Oh, brother, what a night this is going to turn into," Amy mumbled with an eye roll as she turned to open the door.

"Hey, Jane," Amy said to the doorbell ringer.

"Yo," Jane said as she walked in. "I saw Tom's car. They're upstairs, I take it?"

"Yep," Amy said. "And Helen's downstairs, which is where I intend to keep her until those two have had a chance to talk."

"Good luck," Jane said darkly.

"Oh, hello Jane, good to see you," Helen said quickly as she came scampering around the corner from the kitchen, a pile of rice cakes stacked on her tray with a couple of cans of soda. "I was just heading upstairs with some snacks for Daria and Tom. Why don't we head on up _right now,_ hmm?"

"Actually, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Jane said with a glance at Amy. "I'm really not in all that big a hurry. Why don't we all just sit down here in the living room and chat. I'm sure you've got all kinds of stories about your sister here that Daria's never told me."

"Yeah, sis, here's you chance to get me back for fifteen-odd years of torture," Amy said brightly. "I'd love to see what you come up with!"

Helen, however, was not even remotely paying attention to the two ladies in front of her. She was busy casting worried looks up the stairs and trying to hear what was going on above.

"It's too quiet up there," Helen said worriedly before turning back to the girls. "You know that really sounds like a lot of fun, girls, but Daria and Tom are waiting for their snacks and I have to get them up there before they start doing God knows what -- I mean wondering where their food is."

"Uh, Helen, wait a sec --" Amy tried to stall a little longer as her sister pushed past her and headed up the stairs.

"Yeah, Mrs. M," Jane said quickly. "I need you to take a case in criminal court -- it seems my brother got caught selling dope while driving drunk and speeding!"

"That's nice, Jane," Helen called back over her shoulder, not hearing a word. "Tell me later!"

"_Naked!_" Jane almost shouted, but Helen had disappeared around the corner. "Damn."

"Well, we can't say we didn't try," Amy said with a sigh. "We better get up there."

"Yeah," Jane said as Amy started up the stairs. She had barely lifted her foot up to the second step when they heard the telltale thud of a body hitting the floor. The two women came to a stunned halt and looked wide-eyed up the stairs. Then there was silence for a long moment.

"Oh crap," Jane said worriedly.

"Oh no," Amy whispered with a sinking feeling in her colon.

Suddenly they heard the sound of a tray full of rice cakes and soda pop crashing to the floor. Almost immediately after, the voice of an overworked, overstressed, middle-aged woman lawyer who had just found out the hard way that she was going to be a grandmother was heard echoing through the house.

"**_YOU'RE WHAT!?!?_**"

to be continued

**__**

Author's Notes: 

What, you thought it was going to be all worked out here?

Anyway...First off, and in no particular order, I have to thank those who Beta Read this story: Kara Wild, Ben Breeck, Steven Galloway, The Waco Kid, Deref, Roger E. Moore, The Crusading Saint, Robert Nowall, and Angleinhel. You're comments and kind suggestions have made this a better story that it could be on its own. I know I've said that on my notes for the last two parts, but that doesn't make it any less true.

I realize that I've been dragging the story out some. Rest assured that the pace should pick up some in and after part four. In the meantime, the actual completion of part four may be delayed some as I have several projects that I will be working on over the next few weeks, probably simultaneously. I hope that everyone can bare with me for a while.

Well, with that, Thank You for reading my story.

Questions? Comments? Even better - a route to Lawndale??

As always, an open invitation for any fan art is out!

Send 'em to Greystar@Hotmail.com


	4. First Steps

**__**

Synopsis: Daria drops the bomb of her pregnancy on Tom, but her parents get caught in the blast as well. How will they react? Why is Amy taking this all so well? And how will Quinn cope with the situation?

**__**

Author's Forward: I am rating the following story PG-13 for content. The subject matter deals with teen pregnancy. I am not an advocate of teen pregnancy, and firmly believe that common sense should prevail in such cases. However, real life being what it is, this is not always the case.

The following story was written for entertainment purposes only, and _should not _be taken as educational material. I do not claim that the "technical" aspects of my story are even remotely accurate. If you have any questions, go to a responsible adult knowledgeable in the appropriate areas.

**__**

Other Notes: The author assumes that the reader is familiar with "Daria" and the characters therein, and has read my previous three stories, "Empirical Evidence," "Reflections and Revelations," and "The Exposure of D." This story takes place immediately following "Exposure," and picks up with events immediately at the end of that story.

**__**

Legal Drek: Daria and her cohorts are property of MTV and Viacom.

This story is Copyright July 14, 2003.

Daria

in

First Steps

By Greystar

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Tom Sloane could have spared the brain power, he would have marveled at how radically one's life could change in a few relatively short moments. He had known that something was bothering Daria, and that particular something involved him. She had gone over to his house and given him hell about not being able to make time to talk with her. About half an hour ago Daria had called him and, in her own way, told him that she had wanted to apologize. Had he known the magnitude of the bomb that she was about to drop on him that night, he would have hung up the telephone and hidden under his bed. Of course he probably would have done the same thing if he had fully realized what kind of mood Helen Morgendorffer was in, too.

"You know how I've been telling you how I've been fighting a flu bug all week?" Daria asked Tom as she hat at her desk.

"Yeah, your Mom said you picked it up at camp," Tom replied with a curious look. "Why?"

"Well, it's not really the flu," Daria said as she picked up a manila envelope from her desk. "And I've had it for more than a week . . . Actually about eleven weeks."

"Oooo-kay, what . . . ?" Tom was really starting to get confused. He began to get the feeling that whatever Daria was leading up to was not going to be especially pleasant.

"Okay." Daria swallowed hard and appeared to force herself to continue. "Do you remember when you first met Jane, how you two went to Cluster Burger that night?"

"Yeah, I think so," Tom said, trying to dredge up the memory. "Jane had a couple of Jumbo Burgers, I think."

"Jane said that you bet her dinner that she wouldn't go into the Men's room and buy a condom out of the dispenser in there," Daria said.

"Yeah, I remember now," Tom said with a chuckle. "I had seen this drunk stagger in there like he was about to lose whatever he'd been drinking."

"Jane didn't mention the drunk," Daria said. "What happened next?"

"She came out with the condom and I bought dinner."

"What did you do with it?"

"I put it in my wallet when I got out the money for dinner," Tom said with a confused frown. "Daria, where is this going?"

"Please bear with me for a second. Did this condom have a gold wrapper?"

"I don't know. I guess." Tom started to shrug, than stopped. "Wait . . ."

"The condom we used had a gold wrapper," Daria said quietly. "And I suspect that it had been riding around in your wallet since that night."

"Wait a minute, are you saying . . ."

"It probably had a leak in it that we couldn't see," Daria said as she took a couple of papers from the envelope. "Back before I went off to that stupid camp reunion, I told you that I had been a couple of days late for my period back then. I missed this one completely."

"No. Wait, Daria, you can't be sure that --"

"Aunt Amy took me to the clinic and I got tested," Daria held the pages out to Tom. "These are the results."

Tom snatched the papers out of Daria's hand and held them up to his face, his eyes darting over the information. He took a hesitant step backwards and his foot came down on Daria's microscope, then slipped out from underneath him. Tom landed on his rump with a thud just as Helen came in the door with a tray of something.

"Rice cakes?"

"_You're pregnant!?_"

Time seemed to stop as Daria looked back and forth between her supine boyfriend and her mother, who was suddenly looking very pale. She also appeared to be losing her grip on the tray that she was carrying.

"Wh . . . what?" Helen's voice was barely above a whisper.

Daria looked at her mother with a feeling cold terror rising from her stomach. She swallowed it back down and forced herself to say the words she didn't want to say.

"I'm pregnant," Daria whispered. "Almost three months."

The snack tray slipped from Helen's grip and crashed to the floor, sending rice cakes and soda cans scattering in a half a dozen directions. It also seemed that Helen managed to find her voice.

"**_YOU'RE WHAT!?!?_**"

Helen fell back against the door, but didn't slide to the floor because her knees had locked up and her heels were digging into the carpet. Her jaw was opening and closing as she tried to form some kind of words, but it just seemed to be giving her the appearance of a landed fish. Her eyes were wide and glassy as she was focused on something a thousand miles away.

"Puh . . . Puh . . ." She seemed to be whispering.

"Mom?" Daria asked quietly

"Helen! What happened?" Jake appeared out of their bedroom to see what all the commotion was about. Helen's near catatonia brought him to a screeching halt at the door to Daria's room "Oh my God! Helen, What's wrong??"

"Puh . . . Duh . . .Puh," Helen gasped as she started to slump down a little further.

"Sweety?"

Amy and Jane appeared almost on Jakes heels, both of them taking in the crowded scene with a look.

"Daria, what's wrong with Helen?" Jake asked with a little desperation.

"Jake, maybe we'd better get Helen down stairs, hmm?" Amy said as she slipped into the room and took Helen's right arm. "She looks like she needs a place to sit down and rest a bit. Right, sis?"

"Duh . . . Puh . . . Duh . . ." was Helen's only response as her sister and her husband guided her back to her feet and slowly out into the hall.

"Jane, can you handle things up here?" Amy asked as the left.

"No problem," Jane said, turning back to Tom and Daria.

"Is she okay?" Tom asked in a dull tone from his place on the floor.

"I don't know. She should have went up like Mount Krakatoa," Daria said as she and Jane went over to help him back to his feet. "Are _you _okay?"

"I, uh," Tom looked back as the girls pulled him to his feet. He took a couple of uncertain steps as he turned around and looked back to where he had been sitting. He was speaking very slowly. "I think I broke your microscope. . . Sorry." 

"Tom, are you okay?" Jane asked slowly. "You look a little pale."

"Um," Tom looked down at the medical report clenched in his hand. "Is this for real? You're really gonna have a baby?"

"Yes, Tom, it's for real." Daria slowly nodded.

"Congratulations . . . Dad," Jane said with a smirk.

"Jane!"

Tom looked blankly at Daria for a moment before his eyes rolled upwards in their sockets, and he slowly began to fall forward. The two girls managed to catch him by the arms as he fell, grunting under the suddenly dead weight of their unconscious friend.

"Whoof!!" Jane grunted as they lowered him to the floor, then she looked at Daria. "All things considered, I'd say he's taking this rather well, wouldn't you?"

"You're no help at all. You know that, don't you?" Daria said dryly.

~~~~~~

It took Jake and Amy a few moments to help Helen navigate the stairs, but they eventually got her settled on one of the sofa's in the living room. Amy watched with moderate concern as Helen continued to do her imitation of a fish out of water, but wasn't too worried because her gaze was becoming a little more focused. Jake, however, continued to flutter around like a nervous mother hen.

"Helen? Sweety?" Jake was sounding a little desperate. "Please, say something! What's wrong?"

"Take it easy, Jake," Amy said, trying to sound reassuring. "I think that she'll be alright if we just give her a few minutes."

"But what happened? Why is she like this?"

"She, um . . . got a bit of a shock. She'll be okay once it's had a chance to sink in." Amy thought for a moment. "Look, Jake, you might want to prepare yourself for a shock too. I don't want to haul both my sister _and _brother-in-law into the emergency room tonight."

"Oh, okay. You think she'll come out of it?" Jake asked, grasping at any offered shred of hope.

"Oh, yeah." Amy nodded. _Like a bat out of hell._

"Duh . . . Duh . . . Dah," Helen mumbled.

"I think she's trying to say something!" Jake exclaimed, grabbing Helen's hand. "What is it, Helen?"

"Duh . . . Da . . . Dar," Helen stammered.

"C'mon, honey, you can do it!"

"Uh, Jake, remember what I said about preparing yourself for a shock," Amy warned.

"Dar . . . Daria . . .p-p-puh . . ."

"What about Daria, honey?" Jake asked, looking anxious.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Jane's voice drifted down the stairs as the three teens descended into view. "You were out cold there for a couple of minutes."

"Yeah, I guess, all things considered," Tom said slowly as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He was still carrying the pages that Daria had given him. "Sorry about your microscope, Daria."

Helen's head slowly turned towards the three at the sound of her daughter's name. 

"That's okay. I've been meaning to get a new one anyway." Daria replied as the three teenagers turned the corner at the foot of the stairs and looked upon the three adults sitting in the living room. Helen's and Daria's eyes locked for a split second. "Oh, crap."

Helen's stupor disappeared faster than a chocolate drop in a blast furnace, and she rocketed to her feet.

"**_DARIA ANNE MORGENDORFFER, WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE PREGNANT!?!?_**"

"What??" Jake cried. "What are you talking about? Daria isn't pregnant!"

"Steady, Helen. Stay calm." Amy stood behind Helen and placed a hand on her shoulder. "This isn't the time to go off the deep end."

"Stay calm? Like hell!" Helen whirled on Amy. "I'm trying to protect my little girls' innocence and walk in just as my oldest daughter announces she's _pregnant_, and you stand there and tell me to _stay calm!?"_

"Wait a minute, Helen," Jake put in as he also stood up. "Daria can't be pregnant! She doesn't . . . Well, I mean, we would know, wouldn't we? They were probably . . . practicing for a play or something like that. Yeah, that's it, isn't it kiddo?"

Helen turned on Jake with a look of openmouthed disbelief that spoke volumes. She crossed the living room in a flash and snatched the papers that Tom was carrying out of his hand, giving him a look that promised a fate worse than any death he could conceive in the process. Helen confirmed that the papers were what she thought they were with a glance and crossed back over to Jake.

"These are lab results from the free clinic," Helen snapped as she shoved the paperwork into her husbands hands. "I see almost as many of these as I do legal briefs from them! You tell me what that says! _Tell me what that says!_"

Jake looked over both of the pages, mumbling to himself as he read. He had seen the test results when Helen had been pregnant with the girls, in fact they were in an album in the attic if he remembered right. These weren't too different from them, according to his fuzzy memory, so he had a very vague idea what he was looking for.

". . . Pregnancy test results: Positive . . ." Jake looked over the papers again, then started chuckling, as he turned them back over to Helen. "Honey, look at the top. These aren't Daria's. They belong to that friend of Quinn's. You know, the one with the pig tails?"

"Tiffany's Asian, Dad," Daria finally spoke up. "And they _are _mine. Look at the rest of it . . . Height, weight, hair . . ."

"B-b-b-b-- Why did you...? When did you...? _How _did you...?" Jake stammered as he helt the papers closer and looked over them again. Emotions played across his face with dangerous rapidity. He looked up and locked onto Tom and his fists clenched involuntarily, crumpling the pages in his grip as a look of rage set in. Jake tossed the reports on the sofa and started to advance on Tom with murder in his eyes. "You hormone driven little punk! You did this to my little Daria! I'm gonna _kill_ you, _you little bastard!_"

"Wait, Mr. Morgendorffer, let me try and explain!" Tom stammered, not sure it would do any good.

"What's to explain, ya little punk? Huh!?"

"Dad, calm down," Daria said, stepping in between Tom and her father. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack again."

"JAKE! You stop right there this instant!" Helen barked, grabbing Jake by the forearm. "You're not doing anything to anyone!"

"Helen, don't you understand?" Jake practically shouted. "He's stolen our daughter's innocence! God knows what else he's talked her into!"

"It wasn't exactly 'The Rape of Lucrecia,' Dad," Daria said dryly.

"HE WHAT...!?" Jake looked like he was going to have a stroke.

"Oh, _that _really helped," Tom mumbled.

"Jake, for the love of God! He didn't rape anyone! " Helen was looking like she was about to have a stroke of her own as she speared Tom with her death glare again. "At least he better not have!"

"Daria just said that he -- he --" Jake couldn't finish.

" 'The Rape of Lucrecia' was a poem by Shakespeare, Jake," Amy said dryly.

"There, you see?" Helen snapped.

"But still...!" Jake started.

"But _nothing!!_" Helen turned back on Daria. "And just exactly how long were you going to wait before letting us in on this little secret, young lady? When you couldn't hide it any longer? When something went wrong? The day you went into labor, perhaps?"

"Uh," Daria swallowed a lump in her throat. This was not going according to plan, not that there was one to begin with. She had seen her parents upset and angry, but never this beside themselves. Daria was somewhat prepared for emotions running high, but nothing could have prepared her for what she was witnessing now. She looked beseechingly at Amy for help.

"I'm waiting for an answer, Daria!"

"Daria didn't tell you because she thought I ought to know first, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Tom said, stepping out from behind Daria.

"She was also afraid of getting exactly this kind of reaction instead of something calm and rational." Amy stepped up beside Helen. "Daria didn't want you to find out by accident or from someone else. She wanted to sit the two of you down and break the news to you in a calm, adult discussion, not while the two of you were flipping your wigs."

"Dammit, Amy, stay out of this!" Helen dismissed her younger sister. Then the light dawned, and Helen turned back to Amy with a look of total shock. "You _knew_! You knew about this!"

"I've known for about a week," Amy confirmed.

__

"A week?!" Helen shouted into her sister's face, her breath making Amy pull back slightly. "You've known about this for a week and you keep it from me? I'm trying to raise a family here, and you have the gall to keep something like this a secret?" Helen turned and tossed her hands in the air. "Dammit all to _hell_, Amy, how could you do that!"

"I did it because Daria asked me too!" Amy responded. "Jeez, Helen, who the hell do you think took Daria to the clinic!"

"We're her parents!" Jake shot back loudly. "You're supposed to _tell_ us these things!"

"Why, so you could have gone off the deep end a week earlier?" Amy put her hands on her hips. "For crying out loud, Jake, get a clue! Would you have reacted any differently then as opposed to now?"

"Amy, that's not the stinkin' point!" Now Jake was waving his arms around, too. "It's hard enough raising two girls in a world like this! We need every advantage that we can get to protect them from something like this before it's too late!"

"And you, Ms Lane!" Helen lashed out at her new target. "How long have _you _ known about all of this? From day one, maybe?"

"Actually, I've known as long as Daria has. She was at my place when we, uh..." Jane cast an uncertain look at Daria.

"We suspected that something was wrong on the way back from the camp reunion," Daria said hesitantly. "We bought a home pregnancy test and I took it over at Jane's. Jane and I have known for about ten days."

"Ten days!" Helen repeated, her exasperation and anger reaching the burnout point. She dropped down on the couch where she picked up the battered clinic papers and began waving them around. "You know Daria, I've known you to be close mouthed about a lot of things over the years, but this takes the freaking cake. I never, _never _would've thought that you'd go to your aunt about something like this before you'd come to me, not once in a million years."

"Mom, I --" Daria started, but was cut off.

"No, Daria, not now," Helen said, sounding very tired. "I need time to think, right now. Just . . . All of you, just go away for a few hours. I . . . I need some time to think."

The room was tense and silent for a few moments as no one seemed to have the nerve to move and disturb the emotion laden air around them. Jane gave in first, and tapped Tom and Daria on the shoulders, making a 'follow me' motion and heading for the front door. Tom and Daria slowly followed, looking worriedly at Jake and Helen as they did so.

"Mom, we'll be over at Jane's . . .Uh, when you're --" Daria started to say.

"Oh, no you don't, young lady!" Jake snapped, taking two steps toward the retreating teens. "You'll march right up to that room of yours and --"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Jake, let them go!" Helen cut in tiredly. "All you're doing is making this worse! Just . . . Shut up and let them go."

"But, Helen!" Jake protested.

"And fix me a drink. Bourbon. A double."

Jake stalked off towards the kitchen, mumbling to himself all the while. Meanwhile, the kids silently slipped out the front door.

"Helen, this isn't --" Amy said as she started to sit by her sister.

"Amy, you too. " Helen sighed. "Go with Daria or something, but just go away for a while, okay?"

"Okay," Amy acquiesced quietly, standing up and heading for the front door.

By the time she walked out of the house, Jake had returned with a tumbler half full of transparent golden liquor. He handed it to Helen, who stared at it for a long moment.

"Isn't there some way that we can, I don't know, get this problem fixed?" Jake said quietly as he sat down opposite his wife. "I mean, nobody besides us knows right now and . . . Well . . ."

"Jacob Elias Morgendorffer, if you are even _hinting _at forcing Daria to have an abortion, I swear you'll be living on the streets by dawn tomorrow," Helen growled in an anger laden voice that Jake had heard only once before, before they were married.

Of course, the last time Rita had been the target, and not him.

Helen looked back into the glass of amber liquid for a long moment before tossing down the expensive bourbon in one slug.

~~~~~~

Daria, Tom, and Jane were sitting on the front of Tom's car looking down at their respective feet and trying to processes the events of the last half hour or so. All three looked thoroughly depressed, and Tom and Daria kept trying to look at each other, but looked away when the other noticed. Jane just looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her up.

"I suppose that could have gone better," Daria said as Amy walked up.

"Maybe just a little," Amy said, looking back at the house behind her.

"So, have I been disowned yet?" Daria asked as she put her heels on the car bumper and pulled her knees to her chest. "Will they give me time to pack?"

"That won't happen, Daria." Amy hooked her hip on the edge of the car. "Give your Mom a little time to cool down and let things sink in."

"What about her Dad?" Tom looked up. "He was ready to kill me."

"Yeah, he didn't look like he was being very rational about this whole thing," Jane said as she took her hands out of her pockets and crossed her arms. "Are you sure _he's_ going to be able to handle this?"

"I have a feeling you've earned a place on the Jake Morgendorffer Ravings Roster," Daria said, looking at Tom. "Right below his father and one Corporal Ellenbogen."

"Infamous company, I'm sure," Tom looked at Daria. "I don't think that my parents are going to react much better than your father did."

"How about you two?" Amy asked, glancing at Tom and Daria. "How are you holding up?"

"Alright, I suppose. This wasn't really what I expected to have happen tonight." Tom shrugged, looking from Amy to Daria. "Are you okay, Daria?"

"Mmf. I guess," Daria said with her chin on her knees. "I don't know."

Amy looked at Tom and Daria for a moment, then stood up.

"Jane, why don't we take my car and head over to your place," Amy said. "These two can follow along at their own pace. They look like they need a little more time to talk."

"Thanks, Ms. Barksdale. That sounds like a good idea," Tom said, looking worriedly at Daria.

"Just 'Amy' is fine, Tom. I think you're entitled now," Amy replied with her own version of Daria's Mona Lisa smile.

"You okay with that, Daria?" Jane asked as she stood up. "You want we should do something else?"

"No, Jane, it'll be okay." The expression on Daria's face indicated that she expected it to be anything but okay, however. "You guys go. We'll walk."

"If you say so." Jane didn't sound too sure about it, but she slowly started to walk towards Amy's convertible.

Tom and Daria slipped off of the beat up Jag's hood and started to walk in the general direction of Jane's house in a very slow shuffle. Daria had her arms folded and Tom's hands were shoved deeply into his pockets. Neither of them said anything until Amy's convertible drove by, with Jane looking at Daria and Tom as they passed, worry plainly evident on Jane's face.

"So," Daria said without looking up. "Are you going to yell at me too?"

"No, I did enough of that last night." Tom didn't look up either. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay, I guess."

They both walked in silence for a moment before Daria spoke up again.

"You think it's my fault, don't you?" Daria asked quietly.

"What, getting pregnant? I don't think its anybody's fault." Tom shrugged. "We took what we thought were sufficient precautions at the time and . . . Well, they weren't."

"But you blame me, don't you?"

"Daria, if I'm blaming anyone, I'm blaming me," Tom said, looking over at her.

"Why? It wasn't your idea to go up there and . . . " Daria couldn't finish.

"No, it wasn't, but I was a willing participant," Tom looked back at the sidewalk. "You just wanted to, well, experiment a little. See what all the 'fuss' was about. It was my idea to go the rest of the way. I just didn't think about the condom being that, well . . ."

"Yeah. As I recall, both of us were pretty well past the thinking stage by the time we got to that." Daria still hadn't looked up.

"Yeah," Tom mumbled. They walked on for another silent moment before he spoke again. "So, uh . . . What are you . . .What are_ we_ going to do now?"

"What do you mean 'we?' " Daria finally looked up. 

"I mean 'we' as in you and me," Tom said with a small smile at Daria slightly confused look. "What, did you think I was going to say 'tough luck' and walk off?"

"Well, yeah . . . Maybe . . . I don't know." Daria's shoulders slumped as she came to a halt. "Are you?"

"No," Tom said simply. "I couldn't do that."

"Oh."

The two of them just stood on the sidewalk and looked at each other for several long moments. Neither one could fathom what was going on in the other's head.

"You . . . do want me around, don't you?" Tom asked quietly.

"Um," Daria hesitated. She hadn't thought about that particular aspect of the situation all that much. Jane had asked her about it a couple of times in passing, and Daria had told her that she wasn't sure. Settling down with Tom hadn't even remotely been part of the plan for either of them in the beginning. But now it was a whole new ball game.

"Daria?" Tom prompted.

"Um, I don't know?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "Look, things have just started happening entirely too fast, and I'm not ready for any of it. I don't know if a permanent relationship is going to help or make things worse. I'd like to think that I can take care of myself, but . . ."

"Fair enough, I guess," Tom said as they two resumed walking. "I want to help, that's all. I don't want to make things harder. I'd like to say I know how difficult this is going to be, but . . . "

"I know," Daria said. "I guess I'm still a little bowled over by they way Mom and Dad reacted."

"Me too. You're Aunt Amy seemed to be taking all of this pretty well."

"Yes, she is, isn't she?" Daria said, a small part of the back of her mind beginning to ponder that subject. "I told her a couple of days after I found out and she seemed genuinely happy for me."

"I'm glad," Tom said. "So, back to my original question, I guess. What do we do now?"

"I don't know what to do," Daria sighed.

"Me neither." Tom moved a little closer and slipped his arm around Daria's waist as they walked. "I'm going to have to tell my Mom and Dad when I get home. It's not likely to be very pretty."

"Can't be worse than what we just went through." Daria slipped her own arm around Tom, grateful for the support, both emotional and physical.

"I don't know about that. My family has some rather . . . pointed ideas when it comes to this kind of thing," Tom said with a sigh. "Station in life things, and that kind of stuff. Reads like a bad soap opera, some times."

"Don't want their son consorting with a middle class girl from the wrong side of the privacy fence?"

"No, it's not that," Tom said with a sigh. "They've never really cared who I went out with, just so long as I uphold the family name once I'm out in the world. I went out with a couple of girls for a while before I met Jane and you. My folks pretty much just tolerated them, didn't expect much. Jane they were intrigued by, I think, what with her being an artist and their involvement in the museum and all."

"What about me?" Daria was curious.

"You they really like," Tom said with a smile. "My folks always used to nag me that the girls I went out with weren't on the same level as I was so I quit talking about them. Now they keep asking me if I'm going to bring you along to whatever semi-formal event is next on the calendar that I can't talk my way out of."

"Is that why you never asked me to go anywhere?" Daria asked. "I might have said yes, you know. Just to shake us out of our rut."

"Come on, Daria. Really?"

"Well . . . no. But you still could have asked. So, how do you think they're going to react?"

"I honestly don't know," Tom said, trying to imagine his parents reaction to the news. "I think that it might be better if I told them by myself first. If it's bad then, well, you don't need to go through all that again from someone who you don't really know."

"You don't think they'll be pleased then," Daria said.

Tom's long silence was all the answer that she needed.

"They'll want to know what we intend to do about the situation," Tom said after a moment, looking rather uncomfortable. "Daria, I don't want to ask this, but I've got to. . .Um, what . . . What do you intend to do about . . . Well . . ."

"Yes?"

"Do you intent do have the baby or . . ." Tom looked disgusted, but tried to continue.

"Do I intend to abort?" Daria finished for him.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could have, well, done that a little better."

"It's all right," Daria sighed. "Actually, I don't know what I want to do. I mean it would be easy enough abort, then there'd only be one more rumor floating around, and I could live with that. But I'd have to live with myself afterwards. Normally I don't much care what people do to themselves, but it isn't just up to me anymore, you know?"

"I guess," Tom said, trying to stay as clinical as he could. "What about adoption? If you decide to have the baby, that is."

"I don't know," Daria sighed. "I've read stories about people that have decided to put their babies up for adoption before they were born, then changed their minds afterwards. All that does is cause legal problems and get confusing for the baby. It doesn't do any good for the adults involved either. Then there's the possibility of the child looking for it's real parents after it's grown up. After a while, that becomes a real possibility."

"Yeah, I suppose it does," Tom said. "What if you decided to keep the baby?"

"Then my life gets put on indefinite hold," Daria said simply. "I won't get to do the things that I wanted to do. At least, not the way I wanted to do them."

"I know. But, sometimes, things have a strange way of working out for the best." Tom said, looking at Daria as they walked.

"How do you figure?"

"Well, I was in a grunge club a while back. There, I met someone that I started going out with, and her Best Friend," Tom said with a smile. "We broke up, but are still good friends, and a little wiser because of it, and I got to know her Best Friend over the course of it all. It was a little rocky at first, but she and I got to know each other, and we started going out. Now, she's pretty special to me, and I'd hate to see her do something that she'd regret just because I couldn't keep my hormones under control."

"You rat!" Daria said with a smirk. "You're talking about Jane and me."

"I know." Tom smirked back. "You are very special to me, Daria. And I want to be here for you through this. Not just because I want to take responsibility for my actions, but because I want to be there for you, too. And the baby."

Daria tried to say something in response, but found that it wouldn't come out past the lump that had formed in her throat. Instead, she settled for kissing Tom on the cheek and holding him tightly around the waist as they walked.

~~~~~~

Quinn came home to a very tense and quiet house that evening, but she had several indications that something was up even before she got out of Sandi's car. She noticed immediately that the battered luxury car that Daria's boyfriend Tom drove was parked out front, while Aunt Amy's convertible was missing from the driveway. Quinn suspected that Amy was out doing whatever it was that she did, and that Tom and Daria were up in her room talking about some weird book like they usually did.

Quinn walked in to find her mother sitting on the living room sofa in the semi-darkness and looking somewhat bleary, which immediately struck Quinn as odd. She had a glass in her hand that appeared to have a sizeable dose of something in it resembling a rather dark apple juice. The liquor bottle on the table in front of Helen quickly gave lie to the apple juice theory. Usually it was her father that was doing that kind of thing with a martini pitcher, and usually after something had gone badly, but this time Jake was nowhere to be seen.

Blanching slightly, Quinn started to head upstairs hoping to keep her distance from her mother. Helen would have immediately noticed that her breath smelled of the cigarette that she had gotten from Andrea that evening. Sandi hadn't noticed, but that was because she had the top of her convertible down, and the wind from driving kept her from getting a whiff. Quinn made a mental note to use some mouthwash as soon as she got upstairs.

"Hi, Mom!" Quinn said brightly, keeping up the act as she headed upstairs. "I won't be here for dinner, Skyler's supposed to pick me up in an hour."

"Fine," Helen said without looking up from her glass. "Be home by nine."

"Wha --? Nine?" Quinn was flabbergasted. "But that's barely time to go to dinner! And we were gonna see a movie!"

"Quinn, I'm in no mood for an argument." Helen's voice was suddenly hard. "Nine p.m. One second later than that and you'll be grounded for two weeks."

"_Two weeks??"_ Just what the heck happened before she got home?

"And we're going to have a little discussion about your dating practices in the very, very near future."

The argument was interrupted by Helen's cell phone ringing in her pocket. She pulled it out and turned it on in one smooth motion, then held it up to here ear.

"What?" Helen was cold as ice. "Eric, whatever it is will wait until morning. Good night."

"Muh-oooom, that's not fair!" Quinn gripped the banister as Helen put the phone on the table. "I've never had any problems --"

"No arguments or you're two weeks starts tonight," Helen said flatly just before taking a large sip from her drink.

Quinn ground her teeth together as she stormed up the stairs. This _had _to have something to do with Daria, Quinn was positive of it, and was going to find out what the hell was going on. She practically ran down the hall to Daria's room and shoved the door open with out knocking.

"Daria, just what --" Quinn started to say, but stopped when she saw that the room was empty. She noticed that Daria's microscope was broken and it's pieces were sitting on the bed. " -- is wrong with _this _picture?"

Quinn looked at the empty room for a moment, then went down to the guestroom and confirmed that Aunt Amy's luggage was still there. As she left the guest room, she glanced into her parents bedroom, and saw Jake sitting on the bed. He was surrounded with pictures of Daria and Quinn, looking more like he was staring past them than actually looking at any of them. Quinn could tell that there were pictures from the days they were born all the way up to the most recent snap shots that had been snuck when they weren't looking.

__

Okay, now this is getting a little weird, Quinn thought as she went back to her bedroom. _Mom's getting drunk and turning into instant Hitler while Dad's mooning over old pictures? What's going on around here? It's like some freaky movie!_

Quinn silently slipped back to her room and closed the door behind her before she sat down on the bed and tried to think. She was better at accessorizing than analyzing, but something was going on here. Jake and Helen were acting completely out of character, Helen more so, due to the fact that she basically just told her boss to go stuff it.

__

Aunt Amy, Tom, and Daria are gone too, not that I blame them with Mom and Dad acting like this. Quinn thought. _Figures that they'd leave me alone here with this going on. I wonder where they could have gone too?_

The answer to that became obvious about as soon as she completed the thought. Quinn pulled out her day runner and looked up Jane's phone number, written in under "Emergency," before picking up her phone and dialing. She thought that this definitely qualified. The phone rang on the other end about a dozen times before anyone picked it up. Quinn knew to be patient when calling the Lane's house.

"Yo?" Quinn heard Jane say as she picked up the phone.

"Jane? It's Quinn. Are Daria and Tom over there?" Quinn asked hopefully.

"Yeah, they just walked in."

"Can I talk to Daria? It's really important."

"Sure, just a sec," Jane said. It sounded like there was a little muffled conversation before Daria spoke up.

"Hello?"

"Daria, what's going on?" Quinn asked worriedly. "Mom and Dad are acting really weird. Dad's in their room and he's got our pictures spread all over the place and Mom's downstairs drinking like she'd just gone ten rounds with Aunt Rita! Aunt Amy's not here, but her clothes and stuff are, and Tom's car is still out front. What's this all about?"

"It's . . . kind of hard to explain, Quinn," Daria said.

"Daria, is it because of what Sandi's been saying?" Quinn asked. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "It is, isn't it?"

"It's not just that, it's . . . Well, it's difficult," Daria said hesitantly.

"I'll say. And you're not making it any easier!" Quinn sat down on the floor next to her telephone. "Is Aunt Amy over there with you?"

"Yeah, did you want to talk to her?"

"Is she going to give me a straight answer?"

"Okay, look," Daria sighed. "There's a couple of pieces of paperwork that Mom has downstairs. You'll probably have to sneak them away from her. They're from the Lawndale Clinic and have Tiffany's name on them. Get them and come over here. I'll explain it then."

"Tiffany? What?" Quinn was really confused now. "Never mind. I'm going to have to cancel my date with Skyler anyway because Mom cut my curfew back to nine o'clock." She was silent for a moment. "This has to do with you, doesn't it?"

"It probably does," Daria said. "Sorry."

"If Mom's got those papers, I'll be risking my life getting to them, you know. She's really worked up over something."

"Yeah," Daria said, suddenly sounding more depressed than usual. "Tell me about it."

"Okay, I'll be over as soon as I can," Quinn said as she stood up. "This better be one hell of an explanation."

"Oh, it will be memorable, all right," Daria said. "Do me a favor and grab my pajamas and toothbrush? I may be spending the night here."

"Right. 'Bye."

Right after she hung up the phone, Quinn made a quick call to Skyler and broke their date, giving some flimsy excuse about not being able to go out while her aunt was in town. Then she collected her backpack and headed for the bathroom to gather Daria's toothbrush and sleepwear. She took an extra moment to get her own stuff too, just in case. If this was as heavy as Daria was hinting at, Quinn figured she might just not want to be around the house for a while either.

Moving as stealthily as she could, Quinn descended the stairs. Helen was still down there, but she had moved off of the sofa and was standing at the glass doors that led into the back yard. If she heard Quinn, or saw her in the glass, she gave no indication of it. In fact, she didn't look like she was seeing much of anything as she stared off into space.

Quinn quickly spotted the two papers that she thought Daria was talking about sitting on the coffee table next to the bottle. She noticed that about half of the bottle's contents were gone as she picked up the papers, which explained a lot about her Mom's current mood. As silently as she could, Quinn folded them in half and slipped them into her hip pocket as she started to back up towards the door. Helen chose that moment to turn around.

"Quinn, where are you gong?" Helen asked in a tone that was not quite as harsh as she had used before.

"I'm going to wait for Skyler outside," Quinn improvised quickly.

"Remember, be home by nine p.m. or else," Helen said as she turned back to the sliding door.

"Right, nine, gotcha," Quinn said as she quickly backed up to the door and opened it. "See you then."

As soon as the door was closed, Quinn walked as fast as she could in the direction of Jane's house. She looked back over her shoulder as she went, expecting to see her mother following her when it was discovered that she wasn't out front, or that Skyler wasn't coming. She picked up the pace in order to put some distance between her and home.

Leaned against a street lamp a half a block away from the house in order to catch her breath, Quinn reached around and took the papers out of her pocket. They were looking a little the worse for wear, but were still intact.

In the light of the street lamp, Quinn looked over the sheets, finding Tiffany's name right at the top, but knew immediately that they weren't Tiffany's. She could recognize Daria's handwriting in an instant, as well as the physical stats that she had had to put on them. The first sheet was basic physical information, so Quinn went to the second, which was a lab report, and took a little longer to get through. By the time she did, her heart was in her throat, and not from the physical exertion.

Positive_!?! _Quinn's shocked mind thought as her eyes got wider. _Sandi was _right_? That mean's . . ._

"No way," Quinn breathed. "No _freaking_ way."

~~~~~~

Amy settled into the old easy chair in the Lane living room as Tom and Daria made themselves comfortable on the abused sofa. The two kids had been decidedly quiet when they had arrived, having taken a fair while to make the trip from the Morgendorffer homestead. The telephone had rang a few moments after they had walked in. Evidently the rift between Daria and Quinn wasn't so wide that Quinn didn't know where her sister might have headed off to.

"Quinn's on her way over," Daria said as she turned the Lane's cordless over in her hands. "Apparently she walked right into the fallout from my little announcement."

"You mean they didn't board her up in her room? I'm surprised she managed to escape." Jane asked as she walked back into the room from upstairs and stood off to one side. "Trent's got a gig playing at some kind of party tonight, so we've got the place to ourselves. What else did the Princess of Pleather have to say?"

"Mom and Dad apparently have other things on their minds other than Quinn." Daria looked at her friend. "Mom's in the process of getting smashed and Dad's trying to lose himself in old pictures of his daughters."

"Give them a little time, Daria, they'll accept it," Amy said.

"Jane, can I stay over here? I don't think I really want to deal with them in their current states tonight," Daria said.

"I kind of figured," Jane said as she sat down on the sofa next to Daria. "I'll put you in Penny's room again, if that's okay."

"Thanks, Jane."

"Should I be planning on accommodating any other errant members of your extended family tonight?" Jane asked Amy.

"No, thanks," Amy replied. "I'll head back after a while. Give them some time to calm down."

"She's staying," Daria deadpanned.

"We'll put you in my brother Trent's room," Jane said with a smirk. "When he gets back from tonight's gig, he'll think he went through a time warp."

"Huh?" Amy looked a little confused.

"I'll tell you later," Daria said as she shot Jane a nasty look. "Right after I figure out where to dispose of an obnoxious friend's lifeless body."

"Alright, okay! I'm sorry!" Jane said under Daria's glare. "No more matchmaker jokes for a while. I promise."

"So, did you kids get anything worked out on the way over?" Amy asked, shifting the subject back to something a little more serious.

"A little, I guess," Tom said. "The next step is going to be telling my Mom and Dad, and I kind of want to do that on my own. I was telling Daria as we were walking up that I don't think that their reactions are going to be any different from Jake and Helen. In fact, it might be worse in some respects."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Well, we were talking a little about that too," Daria started.

The ringing doorbell interrupted Daria's train of thought, and four sets of eyes turned towards the door.

"That's probably Quinn," she said as Jane got up and went to answer it.

"That didn't take long." Amy looked at her watch. "Does she drive?"

"Better than I do, but she only has a learner's permit."

"She must have run," Jane said as she opened the door.

Quinn was leaning on the frame of the door, her hand on her chest and breathing in ragged gasps. Perspiration covered her face and tears were running down her cheeks from the exertion and hyperventilation. She staggered through the opened door, past a surprised looking Jane, and collapsed against the stairway banister.

"Yep, she ran," Jane said, closing the door.

"_Water_," Quinn gasped, having no luck catching her breath.

"Not until you catch your breath, FloJo," Jane said as she headed for the kitchen. "I'll be right back."

Quinn staggered around the banister and sat down hard on the bottom step, her head hanging between her knees and continued to pant. Jane returned after a moment with a large water glass and a damp rolled up washcloth. She put the rag on the back of Quinn's neck behind her hair and held it there. Some of the cold water was squeezed out and ran down her back, making her sit up from the weird feeling it gave her.

"Deep breaths, breath slowly," Jane advised as she watched Quinn's reactions. "Hold this here."

"How -- _huuuhhh _-- do you -- _huuuhhh _-- do this crap?" Quinn gasped out.

"I've been running since I was ten, Red," Jane said as Quinn reached back to hold the rag. "I can go from your house to mine and back, in my boots, without breaking a sweat. You're idea of exercise is fighting your way through the crowd on half off day at Cashman's."

"Very freakin' funny," Quinn said holding out her free hand at the water glass and wiggling her fingers. "Gimmie the water."

"Slowly," Jane admonished, handing over the glass.

Quinn started chugging down the water, ignoring Jane's advice, but broke into a spluttering cough. She decided that slower was better, and finished at a more sedate rate.

"I warned you," Jane said as she took the glass and the rag back.

"Yeah, whatever." Quinn stood back up on shaky legs and walked over to the sofa. "Daria what the hell is going on? First Sandi starts acting all weird and comes up with this wild story about you and dropping these goofy hints all week, then Aunt Amy shows up with some story about getting work or something, then Mom and Dad go totally nuts!" Quinn pulled the paperwork from her back pocket and handed it to Daria. "And what's with _this_ stuff? I read it, but I can't really believe . .. I mean, you're not really . . ."

"Quinn, how do you feel about being an aunt at seventeen?" Daria asked her sister.

Quinn's jaw dropped to her chest.

"You mean_ it's true!?_" She asked in astonishment after a moment of stunned silence. "You're gonna have a _baby!_ I can't believe it!"

"Believe it," Jane said.

Quinn dropped onto the sofa next to Daria and looked between her and Tom with pure shock on her face.

"That means you and Tom . . . _Eewww_!" Quinn shuddered at the image her mind came up with. "Well, did you at least do it somewhere romantic? Like by the lake or a picnic in the woods or something like that?"

Tom and Daria exchange a look. Daria just shrugged. Again it wasn't the kind of reaction that they were expecting, but it was better than the one they had gotten from Jake and Helen.

"Well, actually, we were in Daria's room," Tom said simply.

"You mean you did it in a room with padded walls?! _Guh-ross!!_" Quinn looked positively disgusted.

"Actually, the pads made it easier to get into some pretty interesting positions," Daria said with a deadpan, then smirked. "That reminds me, you should have Dad tighten up your bed frame. It really squeaks."

"My bed--!?! _Gawd Daria!!_" Quinn gave an allover shudder that made her look like she was about to go into convulsions. "I'm gonna need a new bed!"

Amy couldn't stand it anymore and burst out laughing. This drew a look of pure murder from Quinn and expressions of amusement or bemusement from the other three. After a few moments, Quinn's expression softened as Amy's laughter subsided slowly. Quinn also noticed that the mood in the room had lightened considerably from the time she arrived, so she didn't feel too angry about the harassment.

"The fact that I'm going to have to burn most of the furnishings in my room aside," Quinn said, slowly turning back towards Tom and Daria. "I would have thought that someone would have been smart enough to have supplied some kind of protection for the occasions in question."

"Actually, um, I did," Tom said slowly.

"Okay, _now _I'm confused. If you guys used protection, how come Daria's pregnant?"

Daria started to say something, but stopped and looked rather sullen. Tom was looking at his shoes, and even Jane looked a little guilty.

"You mean you had a condom and didn't use it?" Quinn asked into the heavy silence. "Jeez! I thought you people were supposed to be smart!"

"Well, we did use a condom," Tom explained slowly, uncomfortable with the subject. "Every time, but, uh . . ."

"What?"

"The one we used the first time apparently had a hole in it that we couldn't see," Daria finished.

"So, you got pregnant the very first time you . . ." Quinn's face dropped as she put her hand to her lips. "Oh, Daria!"

Amy watched the look that Daria and Quinn exchanged. It looked like Quinn wanted to hug her sister, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Daria just looked back at her boots.

"Well, what are you going to do?" Quinn asked quietly. "Are you going to have the baby, or get an abortion, or what?"

"Actually, we were just starting to talk about that," Daria said. "Right this very moment, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"I gotta say, Quinn, you're taking this a lot better than Jake and Helen seemed to," Jane said as she sat on the arm of the sofa next to Quinn. "They went through the roof."

"To say the least," Amy put in.

"Well, how am I supposed to take it?" Quinn asked, looking between Jane and Amy. "God, no wonder Mom and Dad were acting weird when I got home! I wouldn't have wanted to be there when they went up."

"I wished we weren't either. Somehow I have a feeling that I won't be for much longer," Daria said as a thought struck her. She looked at Amy. "That reminds me, you seem to be taking this awfully well, too. What gives?"

"Yeah," Quinn put in. "The way you and Daria get along, I would have thought that you would be helping Mom empty that bourbon bottle tonight."

"Actually, Quinn, I knew last Saturday," Amy explained. "Daria told me at the pizza place, and I was the one who took her down to get tested on Monday."

"That still doesn't explain why you took it so well when I told you then." Daria shifted in her seat.

"Well, " Amy started absently tracing a pattern on the arm of the chair with her finger. Her expression was sad and wistful at the same time. "I guess the reason that I'm so happy that you're having a baby is because I . . . Well, I can't."

That made all four of them sit up.

"What?" Daria whispered.

"Amy, I'm so sorry," Tom said.

"Aw, man!" Jane said.

"Oh, Aunt Amy!" Quinn nearly sobbed.

Amy just looked at her finger and continued tracing on the arm of the chair as the silence dragged out.

"What . . . I mean . . ." Daria started to say.

"Why can't I have children?" Amy finished for her niece, looking up with just her eyes. At Daria's nod, she continued. "Well, this was long before you were born. Your Mom was coming to the end of her hippie days and had started college about a year or so before. I was twenty and had met this guy while I was looking for colleges, and we got serious. Well, without going into the gory details, one night we got a little too serious and . . . I believe the word he used afterwards was 'oops.' We didn't think too much of it at the time, but a couple weeks later I started showing oddball symptoms and went to the doctor. That's when I found out I was pregnant."

"So we've got another cousin out there someplace?" Quinn asked.

"No, I'm afraid that you don't." Amy stopped tracing on the arm of her chair. Her gaze was focused on something a thousand miles away. "I went and told the guy the next day. He dumped me like a sack of dirty laundry and disappeared. Said the last thing he needed was a 'rug rat' screwing things up."

"That son of a . . ." Tom whispered, then put his hand to his chin and bit his index finger.

"Tell me about it," Jane said in an icy tone.

"Well, I fell apart for about three days, and got very, very drunk," Amy continued. "Back then, abortions weren't really talked about in polite company. But I managed to find a doctor who would do it and went to him the next day. I made him take me in that very day. He did the procedure and I went home. After about a month I started getting extremely sick and went back to the hospital, where I found out that he . . . screwed up." Amy looked wistfully off into the distance for a moment.

"I got it fixed. But there's too much scar tissue built up for anything to ever work right if I wanted to get pregnant. So the chance of my having a child is effectively nil." Amy concluded. She looked at her niece a little guiltily. "I guess I thought it would be a chance to live vicariously through you. Sorry."

The heavy silence that followed Amy's story was broken only by the occasional sniff from the sofa. Tom looked like he was ready to hunt somebody down and do them in with his bare hands. Daria had taken off her glasses and was wiping her eyes, as was Quinn. Jane just looked pissed, but she was a little dewy eyed as well.

"Does Mom know about you?" Quinn asked.

"She found out a couple of years later," Amy said, then looked at her oldest niece. "Look, Daria. I don't want you to think that you have to do this just because of what I went through way back when."

"I know," Daria said, replacing her glasses. "When we were at the clinic and I got the results back, they gave me some information on, um . . . terminating the pregnancy, if that's what I decided to do."

"And?" Quinn asked.

"And the short version of it is that there's every chance that I should be able to have a baby in the future if I decide to have the procedure done. They said that, if I chose to, I could go through them and they could set me up with someone at Cedars of Lawndale. The whole thing would be kept under wraps, for what that's worth, and that would be that. It's still an option for a while yet."

"You're not going to, are you?" Quinn asked.

"Quinn, I don't know." Daria looked at her sister, then at her boots. "I honestly can't think of one logical reason not too. I'm not remotely ready to be a mother, I don't have any way to support a child -- no offence, Tom-- I'm still in high school, there's no way I'd be able to get through college in a normal amount of time, I could go on and on. Then there's Mom and Dad."

"What about them?"

"Quinn, you didn't see them tonight. And I'm glad you didn't." She shook her head, trying no to think about home for the moment. "You wouldn't have recognized them."

"Oh, yeah." Quinn was silent for a moment as well. "Well, I can think of one reason to have the baby."

"What's that?"

"I want to see what my niece or nephew looks like," Quinn said simply, looking Daria in the eye.

"I'd be kind of curious to see what my son or daughter looks like, too," Tom said.

"You guys are a big help," Daria said.

"Look, Daria, Lord knows that we can't force you to go through with this," Amy said, leaning forward in her chair. "Ultimately, the decision has to be yours. There's still time yet if you want to think about it, and no one will blame you if you want to change your mind."

"What ever you decide to do, amiga, we're all here for you," Jane said from the arm of the couch. She reached past Quinn and squeezed Daria's shoulder. "Nothing's going to change that."

Daria looked at the ardent faces of the four people surrounding her. She would have never thought that she would have to go through something like this so soon. She had to wonder how long it would be before her parents came around, if they ever did. It was nice to know that she had her friends supporting her, even Quinn, which Daria found a little surprising. 

"Well, I think I just came to a decision," Daria said, standing up. She looked over at Tom, who returned her look and nodded, then back at Amy. "Make that _we've_ come to a decision. Aunt Amy, how do you feel about becoming 'Great Aunt Amy?' "

Amy's smile was all the answer she needed.

~~~~~~

Helen woke up in bed the next morning, and immediately wished that she hadn't. Every sound in the otherwise empty room was seemingly intensified a thousand-fold before being pumped directly into her hung over brain. She felt like the inside of her mouth it had a layer of mildewed burlap tacked to it and her face weighed five pounds. As she laboriously pulled herself upright, she tried to remember how she wound up in bed. Her last quasi-clear memory seemed to be Quinn and Amy returning home at the same time. Helen thought she should have been angry at them for something at the time, but couldn't remember what it was.

Moving very slowly, Helen worked her way over to the master bathroom and managed to get to the counter without stumbling. Squinting to focus on the mirror, she examined her reflection. Her hair was a complete and total disaster, and her eyes were thoroughly bloodshot and felt like they were full of gravel. Dark rings underneath her eyes faded into her cheeks and, to her fuzzy mind, reminded her of a raccoon. Evidently, she'd slept in her clothes, as her blouse and skirt were both wrinkled messes and the blouse was missing a button. Her blazer, she saw in the mirror, had been tossed on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Helen shook her head slowly and started to run some cold water, wincing at the sound. The last time that she had come close to getting as drunk as she had last night was her niece Erin's wedding. The hangover after that one wasn't nearly enough to erase the debacle that the reception had turned into. The hangover that she had now wasn't nearly enough to erase the disaster that last night had turned into either.

Daria. Pregnant.

Helen leaned over the sink and ladled a double handful of frigid water onto her face. She hadn't wanted to admit it to herself, but she had imagined such great things for her little girl. It had never really entered her conscious mind until she had read Daria's story of what she would have liked to have seen for the future. Sure, it was only an assignment for Language Arts, but it still told Helen that her daughter thought she had so much more to offer. Helen covered her emotions by ladling another double handful of water onto her face, then looked back up in the mirror as she turned off the water.

__

You had a hard enough time finishing up law school with Daria, Helen thought at her wet faced reflection. _How is she supposed to finish _high school_, never mind going to college? You tried to encourage her to take a more active role, to try to make a difference like you tried to, to try to make better decisions than you did. When the hell did she get it into her head to..._

Helen shook her head slowly and put a hand to the side of her face. There was no way that she was going to be able to think clearly about this with the headache she had. She wondered why she thought a bottle of expensive bourbon would have helped her think last night. Then she realized that she hadn't wanted to think. She had only wanted to drown her disappointment in her daughter. And herself.

Helen sighed and began to remove her sleep-wrinkled clothes as she went in search of something to change into before going downstairs. She needed a hot shower, coffee, and lots of aspirin.

About thirty minutes later, Helen had pulled on her bumble-bee pajamas, located the extra strength aspirin, and was slowly making her way to the kitchen. As she came to the bottom of the stairs, she could make out Amy and Quinn's voices in the kitchen.

"So, where's Jake this morning?" Amy's voice was heard to ask.

"Dad said something about a conference and brunch," Quinn replied. "He didn't look like he was going to be paying much attention to it, though."

"No surprise there."

"Aunt Amy, what do you think is going to happen?" Helen heard Quinn ask. "The last time Mom got like this was Erin's wedding. She's not going to be like this all the time, is she?"

"I doubt it. Rita and your mom have been locking horns since they were kids. The still work through it, up to a point. Getting plowed was just part of the process, sometimes," Amy said. "Helen got a real shock last night and needs to get through it. I don't think that she's on the path to rampant alcoholism."

Helen turned the corner at that point and squinted in the bright sunshine that was streaming in through the windows. With her eyes half closed, her hand on the countertop for guidance and balance, she followed the smell of fresh coffee around the counter. Quinn and Amy were at the table, with a bowl of cereal and coffee, respectively.

"Speak of the devil," Amy said when she spied Helen entering the room. "Sleep well, sis?"

"Gnarfiglobel, fnarbadarb," Helen muttered. At least, that's what it sounded like.

"And a pleasant good morning to you, too," Amy said as Helen poured herself a cup, then started shuffling towards the table. "Interest you in some breakfast?"

"Mmff." Helen shook her head as she sat down in Quinn's usual place. She took the bottle of aspirin out of her shirt pocket and began struggling with the lid. After a few moments the lid popped off and Helen poured out four of the little red and yellow capsules into her hand. Without hesitation, she immediately popped them into her mouth and washed them down with a slug of coffee, wincing at the heat.

"Now that you've had your breakfast, do you feel up to a little conversation?" Amy asked, sipping her own coffee.

"Amy, can't this wait?" Helen said quietly, holding her head in her hands and glancing at Quinn with bloodshot eyes. "This isn't the best time, or place."

"Daria told me about everything last night, Mom. I canceled on Skyler and went over to Jane's," Quinn said. "Not that we would have gotten more than half way through dinner before I would have had to leave, anyway."

"Hmph," Helen cocked an eyebrow at her daughter as she took another sip of her coffee.

"Helen, we need to talk about what happened last night," Amy said.

"There's nothing to discuss." Helen looked into her mug. "Daria is going to have a baby and there seems to have been a conspiracy of silence to keep it a secret from her parents."

"Daria told me that she wanted to tell Tom first, and then they were going to tell you, Daddy, and Tom's family next," Quinn said as she stirred her cereal. "You barged in when she was telling Tom. I mean, what was so wrong with Daria wanting him to know first?"

"What's so wrong with that is that she shouldn't have to have told him anything! If I'd have gone 'barging in' three month's ago, as you so quaintly put it, young lady, then none of this would be happening in the first place!" Helen glowered down at her mug. "Daria's still a child, for Heaven sakes! She should be concentrating on her studies, getting into a good college, figuring out what her career will be! Not planning for the birth of a child!"

"Oh give me a break!" Quinn grumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Helen looked up with a frown.

"I mean that you're always bugging Daria that she should be meeting people, doing extra curricular stuff, dating guys," Quinn said. "Now you're saying that she should have stayed in her room with her nose buried in a book and no friends."

"That's not what I mean at all, Quinn. I want Daria to have friends and I want her to socialize with others! I didn't want her to--to--to . . . go out and do something so _irresponsible_! I mean, what's she supposed to do about college, never mind the rest of high school? Daria's supposed to be smarter than that." Helen sighed. "Where did I fail my little girl?"

"You haven't failed anyone," Amy said from behind her mug. "And don't be so fast to jump on Daria's case. When you were that age, you did your share of stupid things, too."

"Really." Quinn looked mischievously between her aunt and her mother.

"Amy, I had a normal, healthy social life for the times," Helen sat back in her chair, and looked at Quinn. "Yes, I dated a lot, but you have to understand that things were different then than they are now. I never set out to . . . get pregnant."

"Neither did Daria." Amy put her mug down. 

"Maybe not, but that's what happened," Helen leaned forward again. "She didn't stop for one second to consider the consequences. She didn't think about what it's going to do to her chances for college. Or what this is going to do to her parents -- I can't take care of another baby while she's in college! She didn't even think to use a damn condom, for God's sake! She had all this potential and she just threw it away like it was nothing!"

"You want Daria to feel stupid? Well, guess what, Helen, she does," Amy said, pushing her mug off to the side. "You want her to be worried about her future? News flash -- she is. Thanks to your little display last night, Daria feels like she's about to be thrown out on her butt. And for your information, according to Tom and Daria, they _did_ use a condom."

"Then why the hell is she pregnant?"

"It didn't work," Quinn said, drawing a look from her mother. "I _told _you that she told me everything last night."

"What do you mean, it didn't work?" Helen looked confused. "How could it not work?"

"It had a hole in it or something," Quinn said as she stirred the remains of her cereal. 

"You mean . . . " Helen started, but stammered. "But, if it really was accidental, then why didn't she come and _talk_ to me!"

"Think about that one for one second, Helen. Exactly what would you have done?" Amy asked.

"Uh, I, well I would have been understanding! And supportive! And -- " She stammered for a moment.

"And you would gone through the roof, just like you did last night, and they'd be lucky to find enough DNA to identify Tom," Amy said. "Then you'd sue his parents right into the poor house."

"I still intend to do that!" Helen said darkly. "How dare that Tom Sloane talk my daughter into doing something like this."

"Helen, I seem to recall a certain someone that didn't have to talk very fast to get _you_ to do something like that," Amy said with a shake of her head. "I'd be a little more careful before you start throwing _that _accusation around."

"What?" Quinn looked from her cereal.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Helen finished off her coffee and slowly rose to get a refill.

"Two words, Helen," Amy said flatly. "Skeeter Dog."

"_Amy!_" Helen spun around, swaying slightly. "That's not remotely the same situation!"

"Eeww! Who or _what _is _that _supposed be?" Quinn asked looking disgusted.

"Motorcycle stunt rider who was you Mom's first when she was about your age. I was about ten and she made me promise not to say anything at the time. Gave me a pretty decent bribe, for that decade, anyway." Amy looked Helen right in the eye as she spoke. "Your Mom used to bring home a different boyfriend every other night. Eventually one of them talked her into running off and joining that commune, or whatever it was they called it. That's where she eventually met Jake. The rest is history."

"Wait a second." Quinn speared her mother with a harsh glare. "A different boy every other night? And you want to talk to _me_ about how and who _I_ date? Is that what it's supposed to be? Do whatever I tell you and not like I showed you? That's the exact same thing that you just said you _weren't _doing to Daria! It's a . . .a . . .double standoff!" Quinn got up and walked out of the kitchen. "I might date a lot of guys, but at least I have my standards!"

"Quinn, wait! It was a different time!" Helen called after her daughter. "It wasn't like that back then! Let me explain!"

"I don't want to hear it!" Quinn shouted right before the front door slammed.

"_Dammit_, Amy! Why the hell are you trying to make me the bad guy here?" Helen spun unsteadily on her sister, her headache pounding in her ears.

"I'm not trying to make you the bad guy, and I'm sorry if it seems like that. But I _am _trying to get you to wake up and see what's going on around you." Amy said reasonably. "You played a hell of a game of Russian roulette when you were sixteen and seventeen years old, and we both know that you managed to dodge that particular bullet I don't know how many times. You could have been in Daria's shoes in a heartbeat back then. Easier, probably. Your daughter and that boy Tom _are _in that position _now_. That they took all the precautions any reasonable person could have been expected to take, and they still didn't work."

"It doesn't matter what precautions they took, it's a position that they shouldn't have to be in," Helen said as she walked over to the coffee maker and refilled her mug.

"No, it's not, Helen, but they are." Amy stood up and went over to stand beside her sister. "You guys are reacting almost the same way that Mom and Dad would have back then. Yes, you're angry at Daria, and you have a right to be, I'm not going to dispute that. But that isn't going to help Daria and Tom, or you and Jake. She's going to need all the support she can get in order to make it through this, because about a week after graduation, you're daughter is going to give birth to your first grandchild."

"So she decided to have the baby?" Helen looked at her sister. "When did she do this?"

"Last night, over at Jane's," Amy said. "They still have to tell Tom's parents, and he's not expecting a ringing approval either, from what he told me. In fact, he thinks it may be worse than what he saw happen over here."

Helen looked down at her mug feeling totally ashamed of herself. The sick feeling that was forming in her stomach didn't have as much to do with her hangover as she wished it did.

"Oh."

"So, does she go through this alone or with the support of her family?"

Helen picked up her coffee and walked back to the table, where she sat back down.

"I guess I have been behaving like Mom would have, haven't I?" Helen asked sullenly.

"Oh, yeah," Amy said as she sat back down. "I really hadn't wanted to say anything, but ..."

"God, I feel like such a hypocrite." Helen smirked tiredly at Amy. "You're enjoying this far too much, you know."

"Maybe." Amy smirked back.

"That wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you can't have children yourself, would it?"

"Yeah, it does, actually," Amy said, swirling her coffee around. "That kind of came up last night, too. Daria had asked me why I hadn't gone through the roof when she told me last week, and I gave her the Reader's Digest Condensed version."

"That's not the only reason she's decided to have the baby is it?" Helen asked. "Because if it is, it's damned well the wrong reason."

"No, it's not the only one. We talked a little bit about that. I think that she has reasons for doing it that she hasn't admitted to herself yet. Sooner or later, though."

"I'm going to have to have a long talk with Jake about this. I really don't think that he's taking it very well," Helen said as she lifted her mug. "After you left, he wanted to take Daria back down to the clinic and . . .'Fix the problem,' he said."

"Quinn said that he was out at some kind of brunch. You don't suppose that he's out trying to do something stupid, do you?"

"No, I made it perfectly clear to him last night what would happen if he tried to force Daria into doing something like that. I'm sure that he's really at the at brunch, as Quinn said." Helen got a look of long sufferance on her face. "But he's probably draining the first porta-bar he came across."

~~~~~~

Quinn strode down the street with no particular destination in mind when she left the house. She simply wanted to put some distance between herself and her mother for a while.

She still couldn't believe the nerve of her mother. True, she did have some reasons to be upset with Daria, and Quinn figured that she could understand that. What she couldn't understand was why Helen suddenly felt like she had to restrict how Quinn dated when she had done the exact same thing at her age, and younger!

__

Except the sex thing with the biker. Ew! Quinn suppressed a shudder at the thought. _Does she think that I'm going to do something like that? I don't even slow dance till after the fifth date!_

Quinn also wondered what the repercussions would be once the truth of the situation hit Lawndale High. Sandi had already started certain tidbits floating through the school population. Although she didn't know it, Daria's blowing her stack at Kevin Thompson hadn't helped her case any. In fact it had probably served as confirmation for a couple of the more malicious rumor mongers of the school. Quinn could still do what she could to keep Sandi from spreading it, but she would find out the truth from someone. Then Sandi would have one more weapon to use against Quinn, other than the knowledge that Daria was her sister.

__

Of course that's probably the worst kept secret of all time around here, she thought. _But it's not going to help her reputation or mine._

Wait a second, why am I worried about Daria's rep? Quinn frowned to herself. _She's never cared what anyone's thought about her before, except for maybe Jane. And Tom. And maybe that Trent guy once or twice. But she's the one that's got to deal with all that crap and I can tell 'em to freaking lay off and that would be that._

But, she is_ my sister,_ Quinn thought, rubbing her left temple in frustration. _She's going to have a hard enough time dealing with Mom and Dad. School's going to be a whole different problem_.

Quinn shook her head at herself. If this kind of thing had happened last year, she would have let Daria get trashed by the rumor mill, not to mention public opinion, without batting an eyelash. Now she was actually worried about her. When did _that_ happen?

__

Mom and Dad are going to be stressed out beyond belief, Quinn thought with a sigh. _And I just know that they're going to be watching me like a couple of hawks. Sandi's going to be impossible. Once the rest of the school finds out, my social status will be shot, and Sandi'll take advantage of that._

Quinn tried to turn her mind to thinking of some way to turn the situation to her advantage when it came to dealing with Sandi but found that she couldn't concentrate. Unless she found a way to calm down and deal with the situation, her popularity and prestige around the school was going to go down the tubes.

Stopping at a corner for a moment, she glanced both ways and started to cross the street. Her eye caught the sun reflecting off of the front window of a convenience store in the general direction of the mall. Maybe that a couple of hours of window shopping would help her deal with the situation.

As the thought passed through her head, Quinn remembered the short conversation that she had the day before everything got turned upside down with Andrea in the girls room. She had asked why Andrea smoked, and had actually gotten a straight answer.

"Helps me deal," Quinn muttered, remembering Andrea's answer. After that, she had asked for her first cigarette.

Quinn reached around for her backpack, which she had grabbed off of the sofa on her way out. Her wallet was in there, along with a phony I.D. that she had finagled out of a guy that she had been dating. She pulled it out and looked over the picture quickly, deciding that it still looked like her enough to be of use. Once again, a more rational part of her mind started whispering that this was a bad idea.

Ignoring the whisper, Quinn walked into the store. Five minutes later, she walked out with a pack of slim cigarettes and a sky blue, disposable lighter. After walking a few dozen feet, she stopped, opened the pack, and removed a cigarette. She put to her lips, lit it, and took a puff, before continuing on towards the mall, blowing the smoke out in to the morning breeze. 

~~~~~~

Tom stood at the foot of the stairs and looked across their living room and into the main dining room where his parents were sitting and enjoying a late breakfast. Angier was looking over the Financial section of the _Sun-Herald_, while Kay was talking on the phone with the Arts section open in front of her. A large platter of fruit and pastries set on the table between them. All in all, a normal Saturday for the Sloane family. Tom really could have thought of better conversations to have over breakfast.

__

Just keep reminding yourself that they can't react any worse than Daria's parents did, Tom thought, taking a steadying breath. _No matter how much you don't believe it._

Tom took a deep breath, steadied himself, and headed across the living room and in to the dining room. Kay and Angier looked up as Tom walked in. Despite the day-to-day familiarity of the situation, Tom felt like he was walking into the lion's den.

"Good morning, Tom," Angier said quietly as Kay just smiled. 

"Morning, Dad," Tom said as he nonchalantly waved at his mother, who continued her telephone conversation.

"Well, we have a independent appraiser coming in this afternoon to go over the whole collection through the next couple of weeks. By the time they're done, we should have this whole issue settled. . . Yes, I know. I'll see you this afternoon. Good-bye, Mils." Kay turned off the phone and put it down on the table. "One would think that people had better things to do than quibble over details."

"I know how you feel. I've got too many clients like that," Angier said.

"Good morning Tom." Kay turned toward Tom. "Any plans for today?"

"Actually, I was hoping that we could talk about something," Tom said as he sat down across from his father.

"Of course we can, son." Angier put his paper down. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, you know that I've been seeing Daria for about eight months or so now," Tom said.

"Yes, that Daria is such a smart young lady. She has such a bright future ahead of her," Kay said with a smile, then looked at Tom. "You two aren't having problems, are you?"

"Well, I don't know if you'd really classify it as a 'problem,' as such," Tom said, then took a deep breath and plunged ahead. _God, I can't believe I'm saying this!_ "About ten or eleven weeks ago our relationship turned more . . . sexual and . . . Well, it was her first time . . . "

"You were a gentleman about it, I trust," Kay sad with a cocked eyebrow.

"Mom! Of course I was! That's not what I'm talking about!" Tom turned beet red.

"What, you're afraid you'll have to marry her now?" Angier said with a chuckle as he picked up his coffee mug.

"Angie, that's not funny," Kay said with a quick glance at her husband. "Tom, are you having concerns that she's not being monogamous?"

"No, that's not it," Tom said with a shake of his head. "And before either of you ask, we did use protection. The first time and every time since."

"Well, then what's the problem? Are you having second thoughts about the relationship?" Angier asked as he put his mug back down.

"Maybe I ought to just say this right out," Tom said slowly as a rock formed in his belly.

"Say what, Tom?" Kay asked.

"Daria is eleven weeks pregnant."

There was a long, charged pause that hung in the air after Tom's pronouncement. Kay and Angier exchanged looks that were completely unreadable to Tom, who simply sat and waited for a reaction.

"Once more, with clarity," Angier said as he leaned on the table, a slight frown on evident on his brow.

"Yes, Tom. You said that the two of you used protection every time and that you had no concerns of her sleeping around," Kay said, a more concerned look on her face. "Yet you say she's pregnant?"

"We think what happened was that the condom that we used the first time had a leak in it that we couldn't see," Tom said slowly. He wisely decided to leave the little fact that it had spent a year in his wallet out. "It was accidental, really. We --"

"I don't believe this!" Angier leaned back in his chair and glared at Tom. "How the hell could you let something like this happen?"

"While I don't agree with your father's temperament on the subject, I have to agree that this is extremely inconvenient." Kay was shaking her head.

"It's not exactly like we planned this whole thing," Tom started to explain.

"It doesn't matter if it was planned or not! It was damned careless!" Angier looked off to the side and angrily stroked his chin. "I suppose now that she's figured out that she's pregnant she wants _us _to pay to get it taken care of. It's just a matter of how much."

"Well, there will be medical bills down the road," Tom said, thinking that this was going a little better than he had initially thought it would. "There'll have to be some prenatal examinations and --"

"That is not quite what I'm talking about, Thomas," Angier said, turning to face his son. "I mean 'how much' to make this problem go away permanently? The last thing that you need right now is a rug rat running around and screwing things up." He looked back off into the distance. "At least it's not that Jane girl you were seeing before. They're so broke they'd try to wring us for everything they could."

"What?" If Tom had been a cat, his ears would have pivoted forward at his father's words, but rampant shock quickly overtook his feeling of deja vu.

"Really, Tom. Daria is nice and all, and more intellectually suited to you than most of the girls you've seen," Kay said. "But did you really think that she was our kind of people?"

"Not our kind of people? What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Now, it's not that I have anything against Daria personally," Kay explained calmly. "But there are plenty of nice young women going to your school who are more suited to what your station in life will be."

"So you're not upset that Daria is pregnant, you're upset because she doesn't come with a seven figure trust fund tied to her name. Is that it?" Tom asked icily.

"That's not what I meant," Kay started to say somewhat condescendingly.

"But it does make things a little easier," Angier said. "Her mother works for that bunch over at Schrecter, right? I haven't met anyone over there yet that didn't have a price."

"So you'll just bribe them silly?"

"That's about it."

Tom looked from one parent to the other, completely speechless. If he had thought that he was unprepared for the reaction from the Morgendorffers last night, his parent's reactions to the news had come completely out of left field. He had expected them to be somewhat upset at the situation, but he had expected better of his parents. They were talking as if it didn't matter.

"I don't believe I'm hearing this!" Tom finally found his voice. "I just told you that Daria is going to have your grandchild! You're talking about her like she's a toaster that you can send in to be repaired when it gives you problems!"

"Give it a rest, Tom!" Angier snapped, looking back at his son. "You've flung your little fling. Now let's fix this problem and concentrate on more important matters: graduating from Fielding and getting you into Bromwell University at the beginning of next year."

"I hate to break this to you, Dad, but Daria has decided to have the baby," Tom said in an equally hard tone, as he stood up. "Congratulations 'Grandpa.' "

"She's decided to _have_ the baby?" Kay asked, somewhat surprised.

"What the hell do you mean she's decided to have the kid?" Angier snapped at almost the same instant as Kay.

"Angie, please!" Kay said crossly, then turned back to Tom. "Now, Tom, are you sure Daria's serious about keeping this baby? She would be going through her pregnancy over the course of the remaining school year. High school students are not the most tolerant of such things. There's also medical appointments to keep, classes in child bearing -- it's not a responsibility to be taken lightly."

"We spent most of last evening discussing those very subjects, Mom," Tom said. "Daria's aunt assures us she is going to be here for the duration. There's also Jane, her brother, _me_ --"

"Now I don't know about that," Angier sat up slightly.

"What do you mean? You have something against my taking responsibility for the situation?"

"You want to take responsibility for the situation, then fine. The money to fix this snafu can come out of your college funds," Angier said flatly. "You can drive her to the clinic. You can drive her home. Your responsibility ends after that. Hell, you don't even know if it's your kid!"

"Excuse me?" Tom asked in disbelief.

"You're not with her every minute of the day. How do you know what she's doing when you're not around?" Angier asked as he snatched his mug from the table.

"Yes, Tom, be logical about this," Kay said. "A paternity test is a good idea. How can you be sure that this baby is even yours?"

"I'm the only one she's ever had sex with, Mom." Tom said as he turned and walked out of the room. "How the hell to you think?"

Tom stalked angrily out of the dining room, leaving his parents in his wake. He had never known his parents to react that indifferently to a situation than he had just witnessed. He may as well have told them that he had totaled his dad's brand new Vexer for the reaction he had just gotten. Tom felt that their reactions would have been more heartfelt if that were the case.

As Tom exited the living room, he looked up and saw Elsie at the foot of the stairs. She was leaning on the banister and giving him a look that said she had heard everything that had just gone on.

"Well, looks like things aren't exactly working out for you, now are they, big brother?" Elsie said as Tom walked up.

"I'm guessing that you heard everything," Tom said with a scowl.

"Every word." Elsie's smirk deepened. "You're gonna be a daddy. Isn't that cute?"

"_You _I expect it from. It's _them _I can't believe." Tom looked back towards the dining room, seeing their parents were leaning in close to each other and locked in ardent conversation. "Okay, I can see where this kind of thing would come as a shock. You yell, you get upset, but you don't offer to 'take care of the problem' by paying for an abortion for God's sake!"

"Well, how did you _expect_ them to react?" Elsie asked with a roll of her eyes. "These are our parents, here. They've got big plans for us that involve heaping more money into the family fortune. Those plans don't include you going out and complicating things."

"What are you talking about?"

"Tom, you may be smart, but you can be blind as a bat at times." Elsie shook her head. "Why do you thing my friend Melinda acts the way she does, chasing guys and partying her ass off? As soon as she gets out of college, her parents practically have _her_ life all mapped out for her. They've told her as much, and she's told me all about it more times than I can count."

"And you're saying that Mom and Dad have the same thing in mind for us." Tom frowned.

"Duh," Elsie said, mockingly. "They've probably already got a list of spoiled little rich brats picked out for you. Your getting Daria pregnant seriously derails their little plans for the rest of your life. Can't have you tarnishing the Sloane family name with your dalliances, now can they? I can see where they're coming from, though. This isn't the kind of thing that you can simply not talk about at the dinner table, you know."

"Hold it, are you saying that you _agree _with them?" Tom asked in surprise.

"Hell no, I don't agree with them!" Elsie turned and headed back up the stairs. "But you tell me, big brother, just what are we supposed to do about it in the meantime?"

Tom didn't have an answer to that one.

~~~~~~

When the doorbell at Jane's rang, Daria was the one to answer it, having seen Tom pull up to the curb a few moments before. She could tell by the way he carried himself as he walked that his encounter with his parents had not gone well. The look on Tom's face when she opened the door confirmed it.

"Hey," Tom said sullenly.

"Hi. I take it your parents were about as thrilled as mine were?" Daria asked.

"At least your parents showed some emotion when they found out," Tom said as he walked in. "I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd think I was adopted."

"Bad?"

"Remember all that stuff I said about my folks having some off the wall ideas about this kind of thing? Well they just confirmed it for me. In spades."

"What do you mean?" Daria asked. "What happened?"

"Is Jane awake?" Tom asked, looking around and stalling a little. "I really don't want to have to tell this anymore than I have to."

"Yeah, she's in the kitchen making coffee. Come on." Daria lead the way towards the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen they both saw Jane sitting at the table in the red shirt and shorts she usually slept in, her head propped up on her hands and elbows. Her eyes were closed, making at apparent that she had drifted off while listening to the beat up, old coffee maker on the counter gurgle to itself.

"She's up early," Tom said when she saw Jane.

"Yeah, she really is more of a night person." Daria reached out and shook her friend's shoulder. "Jane, wake up. Tom's here."

"Hunh?" Jane blinked a few times as she came back to the world of the living. "Oh, hey. Want some coffee? It's almost ready."

"No thanks, I'd rather preserve my stomach lining," Tom said as he took a seat. "You make it _way_ too strong for my taste. Besides, the last thing that I need now is caffeine."

"Oh? How come?" Jane yawned as she stood up and went over to the pot, which had ended its cycle.

"I told my folks about Daria this morning," Tom said as Jane poured two mugs.

"Evidently it didn't go any better with his parents than it had with mine," Daria said.

"That would be an understatement," Tom sighed as Jane sat down with the coffee, passing a mug to Daria. "Um, should you really be having coffee?"

"This is my limit for the day, trust me," Daria said. "Go on with what you were saying."

"Oh, yeah. Anyway, the gist of their reaction was that this was extremely inconvenient in regards to their plans for my future. My father then, and rather blatantly, asked how much it would take to, and I quote, 'make this problem go away.' Mom began to imply that the situation may have been more tolerable if Daria had been our kind of people, whatever the hell that crack was supposed to mean, or had gone to Fielding." He looked at Daria's stricken face. "She even had the gall to accuse you of sleeping around and said that we should have a paternity test. That was when I walked out."

"They what?" Daria whispered, horrified.

"They ask if Daria's been sleeping around and how much it'll take to get her to have an abortion??" Jane was the picture of pure shock. "Jesus, Tom, your parents are a couple of cold hearted mother--"

Jane never had a chance to finish her sentence as Daria suddenly shoved her chair back and bolted from the room.

"Hey!" Jane exclaimed, stumbling to her own feet.

"Daria, what is it?" Tom twisted in his chair as Daria fled, then looked back at Jane. "What's going on? Morning sickness?"

"Somehow I don't think so. Come on."

The two followed the sounds of Daria's footsteps up stairs and to Penny's room. There they found the door locked and the muffled sounds of someone in tears emanating from the other side. Upon hearing that, Tom and Jane exchanged a worried look.

"Okay, this is new," Tom said quietly.

"Not really," Jane said, just as quietly. "I heard her crying like this last night, but I didn't say anything. She's been awfully emotional ever since she found out she was pregnant. In fact, I think it's been getting worse over the last week or so. She practically tore Kevin Thompson's head off a couple of days ago when he made some stupid crack about what Sandi had said."

"Wow," Tom said, looking surprised. "I guess it's a good thing that she wasn't around when my parents went off, then."

"Yeah, I'd have hated to see what kind of an effect that would have had on her." Jane knocked on the door twice. "Daria?"

There was no answer.

"C'mon, Daria, open the door," Tom said.

"Go away," Daria's voice filtered through the door.

"Maybe we should..." Tom whispered, but was silenced by a look and head-shake from Jane.

"No," Jane said. "We're you're friends and we're not going anywhere."

"I'm not unlocking the door, so you may as well just go away," Daria said.

"Daria, I can pick almost every lock in this house, and I have a power drill for the one's I can't," Jane said, glancing at Tom. "You might as well open up."

It took a moment, but finally the door lock clicked open and the knob was turned form the inside. The door drifted open a crack, and the sounds of footsteps walking back to the bed were heard. Jane slowly pushed the door open, and she and Tom entered as Daria climbed back onto the bed and lay down with her back to them. The sounds of a telephone or two ringing drifted through the door as Jane sat on the edge of the bed and Tom took the desk chair.

"Don't you think that you ought to get that?" Daria asked without rolling over.

"Nah, the machine will get it," Jane said with a wave of her hand towards the open door. "We're more interested in making sure that you're okay. You don't normally act like this."

"I don't usually get accused of being a slut who sleeps around, either," Daria said with a sniff.

"Daria, my mother didn't mean it," Tom said. "She just doesn't know you like we do. It's . . . I don't know how to explain it. It's a 'class' thing that my mother buys into sometimes. It doesn't mean anything. Not to me."

"You can't tell me you didn't think about it when she mentioned it," Daria said, curling up slightly. "For all you know I could have been sleeping with half the football team after that first night because I enjoyed it so damn much."

"Daria, I didn't think about it at all," Tom said flatly.

"Oh, great, thanks." Daria shot a look over her shoulder at Tom, revealing that her eyes were red and a little swollen. "So I'm not good enough for a bunch of low IQ jocks, but I make a good plaything for the spoiled rich kid from the other side of the tracks? Freaking swell."

"Hey!" Tom looked hurt.

"Daria, that wasn't necessary," Jane said sadly. "Look, we know you're upset about the whole thing. Hell, I would be too. I am, as a matter of fact. But this isn't like you. You've got us both a little worried, kid."

"How do you know what's like me and what's not?" Daria rolled over and sat up. "How do you know I won't take the biggest offer Tom's father can come up with and go laughing all the way to the abortionist?"

"Daria, we know you're not like that," Tom said. "We're your friends. Neither one of us has any illusions about how hard it was for you to let us in when you met either one of us. Yes, you and Jane have had more time to build on your relationship, and I _know _that our relationship was pretty antagonistic when I first came into the picture. But you did let us in, and let us get to know _you_. And we know that you're not like that."

"I'm sorry, you guys," Daria said as she calmed down a little. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "The point I'm trying to make is that you _don't_ know. You don't know what I'm doing when neither one of you are around. The fact that your mother made the suggestion, Tom, just brings up one more nagging little doubt that you'll have now instead of later. As soon as it's feasible, I'll have a paternity test done if you want."

Tom got up and walked over to the bed, where he sat down on opposite Jane so that Daria was between them. He put his hand on her shoulder as she turned to face him.

"Daria, I believe _you _when you say that the baby's mine," Tom said. "That's enough for me."

"Hey, you guys. What's goin' on?" A familiar voice suddenly asked.

All three teenagers turned to see Trent standing in the doorway, holding his guitar case in one hand and one of the mugs of coffee from the kitchen in the other. His clothes looked even more rumpled than usual, and several dark rings were present under his eyes.

"Trent, how long have you been standing there?" Jane asked warily.

"I just walked in a second ago," Trent said taking a sip of the coffee he was carrying. "Hey, Daria. You're Mom left a message on the machine. You'll probably want to call her back or something."

Trent took another long sip form the mug as he turned and walked off in the general direction of his own room a couple of doors down.

"Wonderful," Daria mumbled, burying her face in her hands.

"Relax, Daria, I don't even think he was awake," Jane said, patting her friend on the back. "That party Mystik Spiral was playing must have been one hell of a blow out. Trust me, he's running on pure autopilot."

"Great, now I just have to hope he really is as oblivious as he looks." Daria stood up and started walking out. "I'd better go and call Mom back. Do you mind if we work up the rental agreement this afternoon? I think I'll be in better shape to deal with it then."

"I'll go with her," Tom said as he followed Daria out.

"I'll be down in a few minutes. I need to check on the Mystik zombie first," Jane said as she stood up and followed then other two for a moment before she ducked into Trent's room.

Trent was sitting on his bead with his guitar laid out in front of him. Several of the strings were broken and Trent was slowly going through the motions of replacing them with a new set. Jane still wasn't sure if he was awake.

"Hey, Trent," Jane said.

"Hey, Janey," Trent replied as he fixed a new string to the guitar's tailpiece. "You should have come with us to the gig last night. Man, that was the wildest party we've played in a hell of a while, man."

"Sorry I couldn't make it, but I had to be over at Daria's for something," Jane said, looking her brother over carefully. "Trent, I have to ask this. How much did you hear in Penny's room?"

"Private conversation and all?" Trent said as he threaded the string through the tuning machinery at the head of the guitar. "I didn't hear anything, really. I just came up to tell Daria that she had a message."

"How did you know Daria was here?"

"Why else would her Mom leave a message with us?" Trent began to tighten down the new A string. "They having a fight or something?"

"Trent, I'm going to tell you something. This is something that Daria would never tell you on her own, so you have to treat this very carefully when you talk to her. Okay?"

"Sure, Janey," Trent said, not really paying attention and striking the string with his thumb as he tightened the tuning knob. "What is it?"

"Daria's pregnant."

__

TOING!!!

Trent looked up at Jane, completely awake.

"What the hell do you mean 'Daria's pregnant?' " Trent asked, ignoring the newly broken string hanging from his guitar.

"I mean Daria's going to have a baby," Jane repeated.

"Daria's _really_ pregnant?" Trent asked. "How could she be pregnant?"

"Well, Trent," Jane said, rolling her eyes. "I really think that Mom and Dad would have told you about this stuff a long time ago. You see, guys have this thing between their legs called a --"

"No, you knot head!" Trent said, exasperatedly putting his guitar on the bed and standing up. "I'm pretty sure I can figure out the 'how' how! I mean 'who' how?"

"Tom," Jane said simply.

"Aw, man!" Trent looked at the open door. "I mean, they're still in high school! And he broke it off with you when . . . Aw, _man_!"

"Trent, chill." Jane put her hands on her brother's shoulders and gently made him sit back down. "Look, Daria's going to need all the support that she can get from all of us, okay? Her folks found out last night and went totally ballistic. Tom's folks didn't take too kindly to the news either. Apparently they think that they can bribe Daria into getting an abortion or something like that."

"What?!"

"I don't know all the details of that conversation, but that's close enough for now." Jane turned even more serious. "This is already hell on Daria, and I don't know if that call from her Mom means it's going to get worse or not. Whatever it means, Daria's going to need you on her side for this. She admires you a lot, even though she'd never admit it, and having your support is going to mean a lot to her."

"Believe me, Janey, she's got it," Trent said, standing back up and taking Jane's hands from his shoulders. "You better go down and see what's going on. I, uh, I gotta go and get another A-string. This one's broke and I don't have any left."

"Okay, I'll catch you later, then," Jane said as she started to walk out. "Remember what I said."

"No problem, Janey."

Trent stood there for a moment to give Jane a bit of a head start, then headed out himself. He checked his pocket for his car keys as he got to the top of the stairs. From below, he heard Daria's voice, and stopped. He looked down the stairs and saw the three kids standing there.

"I just finished talking to my Mom," Daria was saying. "Aunt Amy's gone off to the museum, and Mom wants us to come back to the house. All three of us."

"Did she say what for?" Jane asked.

"No, she didn't." Daria looked down at her boots. "She probably wants you to help move my stuff out. Do you think that Penny would notice she had a room mate if she came back?"

"Daria, I really don't think that's going to happen," Tom said. "Your parents had a gut reaction to some very surprising news. They'll get used to it. So will mine, eventually."

Trent's eyebrows dipped slightly at the sound of Tom's voice.

"Let's hope," Daria said, looking back up. "Come on, let's get this over with."

The three kids walked out in silence. Trent waited at the top of the stairs until he heard the front door close, then descended, and walked to the living room window. He watched as the three climbed into Tom's old car and drive off. He stood there looking after them for a long moment with a slowly deepening frown on his face.

~~~~~~

Helen was sitting on one of the living room sofas when Tom, Daria, and Jane walked in. She was still in her pajamas and nursing her fourth or fifth cup of coffee that morning. Daria took some small, sadistic, comfort in the fact that it looked like her mother had not had a good night at all and was now paying for it. Helen tried to read the looks on the teenagers faces, and figured that they were all expecting the worst, maybe even a replay of the previous night. Helen definitely couldn't blame them for it.

"Hello, everyone," Helen said, slowly standing up. "Please, come in and have a seat."

"Wouldn't it be easier if we just went up and started packing my stuff?" Daria asked, not moving from her spot by the door.

"What are you talking about, honey?" Helen cocked her eyebrow.

"You're throwing me out, aren't you?" Daria said quietly. "I'd at least like to take a couple changes of clothes with me, if that's okay. I don't need the other stuff, really."

"Daria, don't be silly. We certainly are _not _throwing you out," Helen said with a sad shake of her head. "How could you even think of such a thing? Now come over here and sit down, all of you. I want to talk to you."

The three kids walked across the room as Helen slowly lowered herself back onto the sofa. Daria made it a point to sit as far away from her mother as she could as they all found seats. Helen looked over the three kids for a moment, noticing that Daria kept looking at the floor.

"I really wish Quinn were here for this too, but she went out this morning and doesn't seem to be answering her cellular," Helen said as she took a sip of coffee. "I guess the best way to say this is straight to the point. I want to apologize for the way that Jake and I acted last night. With the load I've been getting at work and Rita on the phone about Erin and Brian twice a day, it was all just too much to handle at once." Helen looked at the three kids again. "I didn't have the right to say the things that I had said to any of you. Jake didn't really have to react the way he did either, but, well, you know how your father can be some times. But, that still doesn't make it right.

"Daria, I'm sorry," Helen said, looking her daughter in the eye from across the coffee table. "I never meant to get angry, and I never wanted you to think that we would throw you out of the house or be anything less than supportive of whatever decision that you make. In that regard, Amy told me that you decided to have the baby. I don't want you deciding to go through with this just because of her. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my sister, but I don't want you going through another six months of pregnancy just because you think that it will make Amy happy."

"What if I change my mind?" Daria asked, getting a look from Tom.

"I really hope that won't be the case, honey," Helen took a sip of her coffee. "If you think that you might have to, though, I hope you come to me before you go to your aunt."

"I don't see Dad here to echo the sentiment," Daria said quietly. "Are you sure he's going to go along with all of this?"

"You're father went to some kind of business brunch. I'll talk to him when he gets home," Helen said just as the front door opened again. She turned and looked as Jake entered. His jacket was open and his tie was undone and hanging around his neck.

"Speak of the devil." Daria looked at her father, than the floor. 

"Daria, you came back!" Jake said as he walked in. Then his eyes landed on Tom and his expression darkened. "You little punk! You've got some nerve showing up around here after what you've done to my little girl!"

"Jake, I asked him to come over," Helen said, trying to calm her husband. "I wasn't expecting you home from the brunch for another couple of hours."

"Actually, I skipped it." Jake closed the door behind him and walked in. "I spent most of the morning just walking around town, trying to do some thinking."

"About what, Jake?"

"About yesterday," Jake said as he stood next to Helen. "I don't know where you got it in your head to do something like this, Daria. If someone had done this to my old man, he would have thrown them out on their ears. But I'm not going to be like he was." Jake looked at the ceiling and shook his fist skyward. "_You hear that, old man! I'm not going to be like you were! I'm not gonna screw up my kid's life!"_

"Jake, calm down," Helen said, standing up and lowering her husband's outstretched fist.

"Huh? Oh yeah. "Jake seemed to settle down a little, but gave Tom another black look before he went on. "Look, I can't say that I'm exactly happy with the situation right now. I didn't expect to be a grandfather until I was retired and had gray hair. Daria, I can't promise that I'll do any better than my old man would have, or that I won't make mistakes, but . . . I'll try and be there for you what ever decision you decide to make."

"Uh, thanks dad," Daria said. _Why am I worried about this?_

"Thanks, Mr. Morgendorffer," Tom said quietly.

"Yeah, well . . ." Jake glared at Tom again, then turned to go. "You're welcome, Daria. I'm gonna go and find some lunch."

The four of them watched as Jake walked into the kitchen, mumbling something about military school and rich kids. They were quiet until they heard him start rummaging around in the refrigerator.

"Okay, now _that's_ new," Jane said, looking at Tom.

"You got that right," Daria said. "Mom, what's wrong with Dad?"

"I don't know, honey, but I'll have a talk with him later." Helen turned back to the three teens as she sat back down. "There's one other thing, though, Daria. I went up to your room earlier and found the envelope that you brought home from the clinic. I was looking at the list of doctors that they had recommended to you. I'd really feel better if you went and saw Dr. Portenza Monday after school."

"Your OB/GYN?" Daria asked.

"Yes. It's not like I don't trust the clinic's physicians, but you need to see someone who is a specialist." Helen looked down at her coffee for a moment. "I'd really feel better if you could deal with someone on a one on one basis."

"But she's _your _doctor," Daria pointed out.

"Yes, she is. Daria, I want you to understand something -- things are going to have to change around here because of all of this. You are going to see a doctor on a regular basis. If you aren't comfortable with Dr. Portenza, than you can make arrangements to see someone else -- _after_ your examination on Monday. It's already set up." Daria opened her mouth to say something, but Helen cut her off. "Don't even try to talk your way out of or around this, Daria. I am not negotiating on any of it. Your diet is going to have to change also, so no more pizza or cheese fries for a while. Don't worry, though, there's no way I'm letting Jake do the cooking. And I'm sorry to have to do this, but no more sleeping over at Jane's. You'll need all the rest that you can get for what's to come, and I'm going to make sure that you get it."

"So, basically I'm grounded until I go into labor, is that it?" Daria asked with a slight frown.

"Not at all, but you are going to start coming home at a decent hour," Helen said. "I won't institute a curfew unless you prove that you need one."

"I've never needed a curfew before."

"You've never been pregnant before. You've also never gone over my head like this, either, by going to your aunt instead of immediately coming to myself or your father with this." Helen took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Although I can honestly see why you did it, I am very disappointed that you chose to do things this way. From this moment on, however, we will be consulted where you and this child are concerned. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal. I'm to have no say in any of this." Daria crossed her arms and gave her mother a hard look.

"No, you'll have just as much say as any mother would over the course of her pregnancy. However, you will keep your father and I very well informed." Helen turned and looked at Tom, her features hardening. "As for you, Tom --"

"Mrs. Morgendorffer, I think that I already know where you're going to be heading," Tom said, holding up a hand to forestall Helen a little. "I already have access to a couple of savings accounts that are in my name. They're Daria's if she wants them, and they'll help pay off a fairly large portion of the medical bills that are going to be coming."

"That's all well and good, but you still live under your parents roof and they are still, for the moment, responsible for you and your actions," Helen said. "I intend to have long conversation with them on Monday morning concerning child support. If they're agreeable to what I propose, then we'll be able to keep this out of court."

"Daria and I talked about this some last night," Tom said. "I'm not going to try and make things any harder than they already are. I know that this is going to be hard on everyone involved, and I want to help. I want to take responsibility for what's happening."

"I understand, Tom. And you will."

"May I say something?" Daria asked.

"Of course, dear," Helen said.

"I understand that I'm pretty well screwed as far as my credibility is concerned around here, and I understand that you are doing what you think you have to do. But I need you to understand something, too. Last night I could have just as easily decided to have the pregnancy . . . terminated." Daria winced at the word. "But I didn't, and not just because of what Aunt Amy told us. I am, sort of, doing this for her. But I'm also doing this for myself. And, as corny as it sounds, I'm also doing this for the baby. This child didn't ask to start out this way. The least I can do is make sure that it gets the best start that it can, circumstances permitting."

"That's what I want too, Daria," Helen said.

"Good, I'm glad we agree on that. Now I need you to understand something else: _You _are not the one who is going to be having this baby -- _I_ am." Daria looked her mother in the eye, much in the same way as Helen had earlier. "I am not going to march around like some kind of perambulating incubator, following every little directive that comes down from on high. I am going to try and live my life with as much of a degree of normalcy as I can, what little there is of that already. That is going to be the only way that I'm going to get through this with as much of my sanity intact as possible. I _need _to be able to do that. If you can understand that, than maybe this won't be as hard as either of us think it will be."

Helen and Daria exchanged a long look and, after a moment, both of them smiled slightly to each other. It was going to be a long road ahead for all of them as the year progressed, but right at the moment, it didn't look as though it was going to be quite as rough as they had originally thought.

To Be Continued

**__**

Author's Notes:

As always, I must give thanks where it is due, to those who have Beta read for me: Steven Galloway, Kara Wild, Roger E. Moore, Ben Breeck, The Crusading Saint, Betting on Delusions (This was her first beta, and if I may say, she did a fantastic job!), Robert Nowall, Angleinhel, and RedlegRick. Several of you have been beta-ing this since part one, a tip of the hat to you for your fortitude in putting up with me through this endeavor.

Now, on to the other stuff . . .

Oh, where to begin with this one? It would seem that I have opened Pandora's Box with this installment. Trying to cover all angles equally has been interesting, and a bit of a headache at times. The public dissection that this installment has received on the new PPMB was definitely unexpected, and a little heated in places. While that wasn't my intention, I'm glad that I was able to write something that kept people's attention.

The first thing I think I should cover is the abortion issue that caused such a conflict. I'm not trying to come across and pro- or anti- anything. It is a situation in the story that was brought up over the course of events, and I hope that I have covered it adequately. If not, well, try not to burn me to badly. Other aspects of the issue may or may not come up as the story progresses, or I'll update things if necessary to keep the continuity up.

Regarding Amy -- she seems to be taking this rather well, isn't she? Well, without spoiling things, let's just say that Amy has issues that will come out as the story moves along.

Regarding Jacob Elias Morgendorffer -- why Elias? Well, why not? There's no hard evidence that I've come across as to what Jake's middle name is anyway. When I was writing that scene, it just seemed to roll of the tongue right, so I thought 'what the heck.'

I suppose that I should also make some comment on why it looks like the Sloane parents are being made the bad guys. Well, every story needs a bad guy . . . Okay, not really, but, like Amy, this story will developed as things go on. There's no real hard background on any of them, or evidence as to how they would react to the situation. None of the Sloane family have any real screen time through the last two seasons of Daria, the exception being Kay, whose time was minimal at best.

I hope that answers some questions, though I know I haven't even remotely answered all of them. Feel free to drop a line if you wish.

As always, an open invitation for any fan art is out!

Send 'em to Greystar@Hotmail.com


	5. Preemptive Strike

**__**

Synopsis: In the midst of the Lawndale Teachers strike, Daria gets forced into teaching the Language Arts class, while attempting to balance home life, school, and pregnancy. Sandi tries to use what she knows against Quinn one too many times, and Amy is haunted by resurfacing memories of her past.

**__**

Author's Forward: I am rating the following story PG-13 for content. The subject matter deals with teen pregnancy. I am not an advocate of teen pregnancy, and firmly believe that common sense should prevail in such cases. However, real life being what it is, this is not always the case.

The following story was written for entertainment purposes only, and _should not _be taken as educational material. I do not claim that the "technical" aspects of my story are even remotely accurate. If you have any questions, go to a responsible adult knowledgeable in the appropriate areas.

**__**

Other Notes: The author assumes that the reader is familiar with "Daria" and the characters therein, and has read my previous stories, "Empirical Evidence," "Reflections and Revelations," "The Exposure of D," and "First Steps." This story takes place concurrent with the Lawndale Teachers Strike portrayed in "Lucky Strike."

**__**

Legal Drek: Daria and her cohorts are property of MTV and Viacom.

This story is Copyright October 20, 2003.

Daria

in

Preemptive Strike

By Greystar

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daria and Jane strolled through the corridors of Lawndale High, enjoying their extended lunch hours brought on by a meeting of the Lawndale Teachers Union that had obviously run over it's allotted time. On the face of it, another ordinary Tuesday was doing it's best to crawl by. The main thing that made it seem out of the ordinary appeared the subject of the two girls conversation.

"So, how did your doctor's appointment go Monday?" Jane asked Daria as the walked along.

"Pretty much like my trip to the clinic. The only difference was that Dr. Portenza did a more complete physical this time, blood work, the whole thing," Daria said, wincing at the memory. "She was going to do a sonogram, but there wasn't a machine available, so it got kicked back to tonight."

"Nothing like stretching out a good time. Is your Mom picking you up?"

"No, she's going to be in court all day with this ATC Motors thing, and in the office for most of the night," Daria said as they turned a corner and started in the general direction of Ms Li's office. "Tom's going to give me a ride over after school."

"Is he going to stick around for the sonogram?" Jane asked.

"He says he is, but I think he's just got a morbid sense of curiosity." Daria looked at her boots for a second as they walked. "I, uh, wouldn't mind if you were there, too."

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away, amiga," Jane said with a small smile.

"Thanks." Daria looked back up the corridor. "Now what do you supposed _that_ is all about?"

Jane followed Daria's look and saw that Charles Ruttheimer, better known to the rest of the students as "Upchuck," was in front of Ms Li's office door, bent over with his hands on his knees. He had his eye pressed up against the keyhole, and was apparently trying to see what was going on inside the office.

"My better judgment says 'keep walking,' " Daria said.

"Ah, but my morbid sense of curiosity says otherwise. C'mon!"

The two girls continued down the corridor to where Upchuck had his eye pressed to Ms Li's door. As the got closer, they were able to make out the sounds of a rather heated discussion coming from behind the door. Apparently, the union meeting was not going as well as one may have thought.

"Ooo, I _like_ what I'm seeing," Upchuck said to himself with a chuckle, not seeing Daria and Jane approaching.

"Ms. Li changing her support hose again?" Jane asked with a smirk.

"That's another habit that will lead to blindness, Upchuck." Daria chimed in.

"Yeah, but in this case you'll wish for it."

"Your concern touches me, ladies," Upchuck said with affected graciousness as he stood up and turned to the two girls. "But we've got a cat-and-dogfight here. _Me-ouch_! And it's about to get strike-o-licious!"

Daria and Jane exchanged a look.

"A teacher strike?" Jane asked. "You don't suppose that we could get lucky, do you?"

__

Yeah, and maybe you'll 'get lucky' and we can share Lamaze classes after school, too. Daria was about to grace her friend with that particular line, but the small crowd that was forming around the door made her bite the sides of her tongue to keep from saying it.

"I doubt it," Daria merely replied.

From the other side of the door, it sounded as though DeMartino's negotiating skills were definitely on par with the last time around, and Ms Li wasn't letting him forget it.

"_That's it!! We strike!!_" Every student in the gathering crowd heard clearly through the door.

A moment later, and to the rousing cheers and applause of the assembled students, DeMartino led Mr. O'Neill, Mrs. Barch, and Mrs. Defoe, out of the office. They all looked very determined, O'Neill uncharacteristically so.

Daria and Jane cast a glance at each other as the office door closed behind the retreating teachers. Jane was about to rebuke Daria for her eternal pessimism, when a blast of feedback announced that the public address system was now on.

"Students of Lawndale High, your attention, please!" Ms Li called out over the PA. Her voice sounded as though she was still stinging a little from her recent confrontation.

"Is that the voice in my head that tells me to kill and kill again?" Jane asked rhetorically, looking at the speaker above the office door.

"No. Satan's voice is lower and he has an English accent." Daria replied. "This is worse."

"In an unprecedented show of spine -- I mean _spite,_" Ms Li continued, oblivious to the byplay outside her door. "Your teachers have announced a strike. However, school will continue just as before!" 

The student's disappointment was rather vocal to say the least.

"It just won't involve teachers," Ms Li mumbled too close to the PA mic just before it clicked off. Most of the students didn't catch her words, but two did.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daria asked as she and Jane continued on their way as the crowd broke up around them.

"Somehow, Daria, I don't think we want to know."

~~~~~~

Later that afternoon, Daria, Jane, and Tom walked into the fourth floor waiting room of Lawndale Medical Arts Partners building. All three of them took a look around and were immediately thankful for the fact that there were only a couple of people waiting to be seen. There was one woman, obviously close to term, sitting on one of the sofa benches and reading quietly out of a children's book to a little girl who looked to be about two. A couple in their thirties were sitting across the room, sharing a parenting magazine that one or the other of them would point to something in and comment on occasionally.

Daria swallowed once to suppress the butterflies in her stomach and set out across the room to the receptionist desk, Jane and Tom in tow. She tried to look neither left or right as she went, but her eyes were drawn to the pregnant woman with her daughter for just a moment too long. The woman caught Daria's look for a moment, and just smiled slightly at her as she walked by. Daria winced in embarrassment and concentrated on the woman behind the desk.

__

That's going to be me in a few months, Daria thought.

"Hi there," the seemingly too young nurse's assistant said as the three approached. Her name tag said 'Jenny.' "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes, I have an appointment with a Dr. Nelson for four o'clock?" Daria said quietly.

"Last name?" Jenny asked as she turned towards her computer.

"Morgendorffer. Daria Morgendorffer."

"Morgen...Here we go." Jenny clicked her mouse a couple of times, and the laser printer next to the computer began to hum. "I'll let the doctor know you're here as soon as this is done printing. Why don't you have a seat? It should only be a few minutes."

"Yeah, sure," Daria said as she turned around. "So was the pregnancy test."

The trio found seats on a sofa bench more or less in the middle of the room. It gave them the most distance between the others in the room, but Daria still wished that she could have put her back to the woman with her daughter. She had to make a conscious effort not to stare at her as she waited, but she still glanced in her direction a time or two. Daria's discomfort was obvious, despite her attempts to hide it.

Tom, however, wasn't quite so guarded in his nervousness. He was looking over the collection of magazines on the small table next to the bench. Amazingly, about half of them were current and most of were geared towards birth and parenting, which was no surprise. He picked up three of the magazines and began looking over the articles on the covers.

"God, look at all this stuff," Tom said quietly as he opened the cover of the one on top while Jane grabbed the next one in the stack. "_Lamaze or Bradley: The Birth Method Right For You; The Developmental Stages of Your Baby_. Oh, here's a winner -- _Fathers in Labor, A True Story."_

"_The Modern Baby Namer,"_ Jane chimed in, looking at the cover of the magazine that she picked up. "_The 'Must Have' Educational Toys for Your Baby_. Man, what a racket. I can't believe that people would actually read this stuff."

"Evidently the tried and true copy of Dr. Spock just isn't good enough for the modern world anymore, right Daria?" Tom said, unconvincingly. When he didn't get an immediate response, he looked over. "Daria?"

Daria wasn't paying attention. She had, in fact, given up trying to keep her attention on her hands or keeping her eyes on the toes of her boots. She was trying to surreptitiously catch a glance of the woman out of the corner of her eye without being seen. The sight of the obviously pregnant woman with her child had peaked Daria's curiosity. She was going into this whole situation with essentially no information, despite all the questions she'd asked Dr. Portenza that Monday, or all the research and reading she'd done in the last few weeks. Yes, she had a lot of technical knowledge about what would happen, but no one she had talked to thus far had told her what she wanted to know: what it would _feel _ like.

The pregnant woman across the room glanced up from the book she was reading to her little girl. Her gaze met with Daria's and her right eyebrow went up, as if to say "Something?" There was something, and Daria made a small, snap decision.

"Daria, what's wrong?" Tom asked in a quiet tone.

"Nothing," Daria said as she stood up. "I need to talk to this lady for a minute."

"Huh?" Jane said as Daria started across the room.

She walked up to the lady and her daughter, who stopped reading as Daria approached. Behind her, Tom and Jane exchanged a look.

"Excuse me," Daria said, uncharacteristically nervous.

"Can I help you with something?" the lady asked.

"Yes, I was hoping that I could ask you something," Daria said as she sat down. "I didn't mean to stare earlier, but I couldn't help noticing that you're rather . . . well . . ."

"Pregnant as hell?" the lady said with a slight smile.

"Uh, yeah," Daria mumbled, embarrassed for a moment. "I am, too. Uh, pregnant, that is. I was wondering if you could tell me . . . You see, I've been dong a lot of research ever since I found out, and I haven't been able to find out what I was looking for and . . . I'm sorry, this is a mistake. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Wait," the lady said, putting a hand on Daria's arm as she started to stand. Daria slowly sat back down. "What did you want to ask me?"

"What does it feel like?"

"Being pregnant?"

"Not just that," Daria said, looking at the two year-old. "I mean when the baby grows or when it moves . . . "

"I'm not sure I quite understand what you're asking, but I'll give it a shot," the lady replied, gesturing at her own abdomen. "Obviously, when the kid grows, things stretch. The skin gets tight, sometimes, but lotion will usually fix that. Most of the time, this one liked to use my bladder as a soccer ball, but now he just likes to beat the dickens out of my intestines."

"You know it's a boy?" Daria asked.

"Yeah, we finally found out about a month ago," she said, running a hand over the baby's bulge. "Mr. Willy finally smiled for the camera."

"There's an image I really needed. Thanks a heap," Daria said dryly.

"Sorry," the lady chuckled.

"I don't just mean physically, I can read up on that. Maybe I mean emotionally, I think. I mean, what do you feel when . . . " Daria asked, trying to frame her words the right way. When she realized that she couldn't put her questions into actual context, she gave up. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. This was a mistake. I can't even figure out how to ask what I want to ask."

"Wait a second," the lady said as Daria started to stand back up. "Actually, I think maybe I have something that will help you answer your question."

The lady took Daria's right hand and laid it along the curve of her abdomen. She adjusted the positioning a little, as if searching for something.

"Right . . . there," she said as she found what she was looking for.

Daria felt something small, hard, and rounded press into the pads of her fingers for a moment before it disappeared, but it came back again and pressed into the palm of her hand. Daria forgot to breathe for a moment as she felt the unborn infant kick her hand through the cotton of the lady's shirt and through the tissues and muscles below. That simple pressure on her hand told her more on a visceral level, on emotional level, on a level that she couldn't even put a name to, than any amount of research and reading and questions could.

"That's . . ." Daria whispered, a little wide-eyed.

"Yeah," the lady replied with a small smile. "Isn't it great?"

"Daria Morgendorffer?" An unfamiliar voice intruded into Daria's world. She slowly looked around and saw a lady doctor standing by the admit desk. She wore a white lab coat over greenish scrubs and had the stereotypical stethoscope draped around her neck.

"I'll be right there," Daria said slowly as she stood back up. She turned and faced the lady she was talking too. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said as she picked up the children's book again. "I hope that I was able to answer your question."

"You were, thank you," Daria said as she gave a little wave in the direction of the two year old before she walked over to the doctor.

"Daria? I'm Dr. Samantha Nelson," she said as she offered her hand to Daria. "My friends all call me Sam."

"A pleasure, I think," Daria said as she looked over her new physician. She categorized her build as similar to Andrea's, the Goth girl that she went to school with, though her hair color was only a little darker than that of her mother's. She wore small, oval shaped glasses and had her hair pulled up, more or less, into a bun on the back of her head.

"Shall we head on back?" Dr. Nelson said, turning slightly.

"Um, would it be all right if my friends came along, also?" Daria asked. In response, Jane and Tom stood up and took a couple of steps forward.

"Sure, I've got no problems with that. We won't be doing anything really serious today, anyway," Dr. Nelson said as she made a quick round of hand shakes and introductions.

"I'm guessing you're dad?" She asked when she got to Tom.

"Yeah, I guess so," Tom said as he shook hands with the doctor. "Unless Jane's been keeping secrets from us the last couple of years."

"Remind me to hurt you later," Jane scowled.

Daria rolled her eyes. "Can we just get this over with?"

~~~~~~

The exam room that they had gone to for the sonogram had surprised Daria when the four of them went in. Despite the fact that it was a hospital exam room, complete with the table covered in a strip of butcher paper, high-tech light fixture, and usual array of equipment, it didn't really feel like one. Harsh white walls and stainless steel counters had given way to warm pastels and soothing Formica counter tops. The gentle scent of vanilla filled the air, and Daria identified the source as a candle warmer in the corner on one of the counters. There were no industrial linoleum tiles on the floor, in fact the pattern was a design that could have been found in a home kitchen. A work station sat along one wall along with three comfortable looking, high backed office chairs. The open spaces on the walls of the room held an array of posters regarding female reproductive anatomy, fetal development on a month by month basis, and various other charts and graphs related to child growth and development. A device about the size of a personal computer sat on a wheeled, red cart next to the work station.

Daria walked over to the exam table and hoisted herself up so she was sitting in the edge of the paper strip. Tom leaned against the table beside Daria, and Jane leaned against a nearby counter and looked over the room with a critical eye. Dr. Nelson went over to the workstation and picked up a file folder from an organizer on top of the desk.

"So, Daria," Dr. Nelson said as she opened the folder and looked at its contents. "I see here that you got the usual poking and prodding from Dr. Portenza, as well as blood work. The two of you determined that you're about thirteen weeks along so far?" Daria nodded. "And I see that the clinic also got you started on prenatal vitamins and an iron supplement."

"Correct," Daria nodded again. "I m taking the vitamins twice a day and the iron supplement once a day."

"Okay." The doctor made a couple of notes. "I think that we can drop the iron supplement for a while. Those guys at the clinic always jump the gun on those, if you ask me. We'll do a hemocrit test the next time you're here and see then, all right?"

"If you say so," Daria said blandly.

"Nervous?" Dr. Nelson asked with a bit of a smile.

"No. . . Well, a little."

"Don't be. You've got nothing to worry about," Dr Nelson said reassuringly. "From everything I've seen here, your pregnancy is completely normal."

"That's not what I'm nervous about," Daria quietly said, looking downward at the toes of her boots. "I'm just not sure that I'm . . . I'm _not _ready for all of this."

"Nobody's ready for something like this, Daria," Dr. Nelson said as she walked over to the red cart. "I sure as hell wasn't when I had either one of my kids. But, thanks to my husband and a lot of help from a couple of good friends, we've been doing all right."

"Ya got by with a little help from your friends, eh?" Jane quipped.

"Pretty much."

Daria unzipped her jacket and lay back on the exam table as Dr. Nelson wheeled the red cart around to the side of the table. Tom moved around to the opposite side as Jane took a place at the foot of the table while the doctor plugged the power cord for the ultrasound device into the wall and switched the machine on. The doctor adjusted a couple of controls on the terminal, and then took a device about the size and shape of a large hand stamp of a recess in the cart and wiped it down with a clean white cloth that came with it.

"Okay, Daria, what I need you to do is pull your t-shirt up and push your skirt down a touch so your abdomen is exposed," Dr. Nelson instructed as she put the device back and took a pair of surgical gloves out of a drawer. "Then I need to palpate your abdomen some so that I can locate the baby, okay?"

"Um, okay," Daria said, slowly pulling the bottom of her shirt up to her ribs. She wished that she could be anywhere else, right at the moment.

"Would you feel better about this if I left?" Tom asked quietly.

"God knows you've seen it all before," Daria grudgingly replied as she hooked her thumbs into her skirt and pushed the front down about four inches. "You might as well stay."

Dr. Nelson stepped up and placed the tips of her fingers on Daria's stomach in the general area of her navel. She pressed lightly with her fingers and probed around in an area about the size of a couple of playing cards. Daria winced slightly at the pressure on her bladder and silently wished that she hadn't had that can of soda while she was waiting for Tom after school.

__

If this takes too long, Daria thought, _I'm going to have to go to the bathroom right in the middle of the examination._

"There's the little fella," Dr. Nelson said as she stopped at a point about a half inch below her navel. "Feel that solid spot?"

"Uh, yeah," Daria said as she reached up and felt where the doctor's fingers had stopped.

"That's where your baby is right now. You uterus has stiffened up some to keep everything in one place." The doctor reached over to the cart and picked up a large tube of gel.

"When I was at the clinic, I told them that all I wanted to know for sure was if the baby and I were healthy or not," Daria said quietly, looking up at Tom from the examination table. "I wasn't really dealing too well with this whole thing then."

"That's all that this is going to do," Tom said.

"I know, but I'm still not too sure about this."

"This is going to be a little chilly," Dr. Nelson said as she squeezed about a quarter cup worth of clear glop onto Daria's abdomen. Daria sucked air in through her teeth as the seemingly ice cold gel slowly spread while the doctor quickly recapped the tube and picked up the ultrasound transducer.

"So, is everyone ready to see what we can see?" Dr. Nelson said as she reached out with the transducer towards the blob of gel on Daria's belly.

"I'm not sure that I want to see it," Daria said quietly.

"I'm sorry?" The transducer hovered about three inches over the blob.

"Daria, we saw all sorts of ultrasound pictures in that reproductive biology unit you aced last year, remember?" Jane said with some confusion. She didn't remember Daria being this squeamish when they dissected frogs in science class.

"That was in text books. This . . . isn't."

"Daria, you don't have to look if you don't want to," Tom said as he took her hand. "But she does have to do the examination."

"I know that, it just . . . " Daria struggled for words for a moment.

"It's okay, I understand," Tom said reassuringly. Actually, he didn't understand at all, but this wasn't the time or place to make a big deal of it.

"Thanks. Um, if you want to look, it's okay," Daria said. "I'd understand."

"No, if you don't want to see, than I won't look either," Tom smiled slightly.

"Well, dammit, I want to see!" Jane said in frustration.

"Then get your buns over here," Dr. Nelson said as she placed the transducer in the blob of gel and pressed a few controls on the ultrasound machine as she did so.

Daria felt, or imagined she felt, a slight tingle on her skin as Dr. Nelson slowly moved the transducer around, spreading the gel out as she did so. She took Tom's hand in hers and turned away from the machine as the doctor made some adjustments with Jane looking over her shoulder.

"Daria, are you okay?" Tom asked in a whisper.

"I know that this sounds silly," Daria whispered back. "But if I don't know certain things about all of this, it makes it all a little easier to handle."

"I'm not sure that I get it, but okay."

"There we are," Dr. Nelson said quietly as her search pattern with the transducer slowed abruptly.

Tom glanced up and saw that the monitor for the machine was turned away from them. Jane must have done it when she walked over. He looked back down at Daria, who looked like she was trying not to listen. He thought that she looked like she wanted to plug her ears.

"Look here and . . . here," Dr. Nelson said as she pointed to a couple of places on the monitor.

"Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable," Jane said as she leaned in, her nose almost pressed up against the monitor. "Daria, are you _absolutely sure_ that you don't want to see this?"

"Positive," Daria said.

"You're missing out, amiga." Jane looked closely at the monitor in wonder, than glanced at the doctor. "How big . . ?"

"Oh, about the size of your thumb, give or take a few millimeters," Dr. Nelson said as she adjusted the transducer slightly.

"So damn tiny," Jane whispered in something akin to awe, looking from her thumb to the screen.

__

No kidding, Tom thought as he glanced as his and Daria's thumbs wrapped around each other as they held hands.

"Babies grow fast enough, though." Dr. Nelson said as she clicked a button on the console, saving a still shot to the machine's memory. "Some days, too fast."

"You're taking pictures?" Jane asked.

"Yep. You want copies?" Dr. Nelson adjusted the transducer and took another still shot. "I'm taking about six."

"Yeah. I'll hang on to them for her in the meantime. Daria will want to see them eventually," Jane said knowingly.

"No I won't," Daria said from the table.

"Yeah, right, Cleo." Jane smirked. "Send me a picture of the Nile next time you're back among your loyal subjects, hmm?"

"While you're there, can you get your slave army to build me a sphinx with my face on it?" Tom said with a chuckle. "I always wanted one of those."

"I've always wanted my own pyramid," the doctor chimed in. Who was she to ruin a perfectly good private joke, even if she didn't get it.

"Oh, drop dead," Daria grumbled. "Individually and / or collectively."

It was all Dr. Nelson could do not to burst out laughing as she clicked another still shot into the ultrasound machine's memory.

~~~~~~

Amy Barksdale sat at a worktable in the large storage facility that doubled as a restoration room for the Lawndale Fine Arts Museum. She was closely inspecting a large landscape painting with a magnifying glass. Her last few days had been spent cataloging and appraising the collection of paintings, sculptures, and other odds and ends that had been recently acquired. The project ahead of her looked to be a two or three month job, even with the museum staff's help. That suited Amy just fine as she had no real plans to leave Lawndale for about six or seven months or so. The only real downside, though was that idiot Mils kept poking his nose in and trying to make things go faster. He wasn't, but Amy got paid by the hour.

She put down her magnifying glass and started making notes on a handy legal pad as the storage facility's door was slid nosily open. Glancing up, Amy immediately recognized mils' weasely features, shaved head, and art nouveau outfit of black slacks, shirt, and jacket. The short haired woman with him she didn't recognize. She wore a white shirt and off-white pant that made her look like she would be more at home sipping iced tea next to the tennis courts with the society set. Amy went back to her noted, figuring that this lady was one of the people on the museum board that Mils kept dragging through.

"Hello? Are you in here?" Mils called out.

__

No, I left twenty minutes ago. Right after I got back here from the last time you dragged me out to see someone, Amy thought with a sigh as she added something to her notes. "Over here, Mils."

"Ah, goot! Vonderful!" Mills waved as if it was some big discovery he had just made. "I have someone I vant to introduce you to."

Amy looked between the painting and Mils and his friend as they threaded their way across the room. She wished that Mils would drop that pseudo-European accent that he used constantly. Amy was pretty sure that the only thing European about him were his overpriced shoes.

"Ah, Amy!" Mils said as they approached her table. "I vould like you to meet Kay Sloane, one of our most distinctive members of the museum board. Kay, this is the young voman whom I have told you so much about, Ms Amy Bahgsdale."

"Most people pronounce it 'Barksdale,' " Amy said as she shook Kay's hand in greeting, simultaneously shooting an annoyed glance at Mils. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Sloane."

"Charmed, I'm sure." Kay smiled warmly. "And please, Amy, anyone willing to take on a project like this can call me Kay."

"All right, Kay, if you insist," Amy said, a little perturbed with the sudden familiarity.

"Oh, I do. I just had to come down and meet you when Mils told me what a wonderful job you were doing," Kay said with a glance at Mils.

__

Like he'd know, Amy thought. "Yes, well, it would be a lot more wonderful a job if certain folks weren't popping in every two hours to see what's been finished and what hasn't."

"Really?" Kay cocked an eyebrow at Mils.

"Ah, yes, well." Mils cleared his throat and slowly backed off. "As it's obvious that you two are getting along svimmingly, I do have other duties that I must attend to . . ."

"Well, I suppose if you must," Amy said with a forced sweetness that none of them believed.

"Yes, I must," Mils said as he turned and beat a hasty exit "Aufwiedersuen, ladies!"

"Well, I suppose I can't be _too _hard on him. Mils is a bit of a sycophant, but he does an excellent job of keeping this place organized.," Kay said as she watched the door slide closed before turning back to Amy. "So, Amy, what do you think of our little collection here?"

"Well, from what I've seen so far, it looks to be fairly complete," Amy said, glancing back over her notes. "I can have the rest of the major pieces done by the end of the week after next, or so. The minor pieces will take longer because there's so many of them. Maybe a couple of months."

"Not surprising," Kay said, looking over the room. "You're not going to be staying in a hotel all that time, are you?"

"My sister set me up in her guest room," Amy replied. "No real problem there, I don't see enough of her family, any way."

"So, tell me, Amy, where did you go to school?"

__

Not a very smooth change of the subject, Kay, ol' girl, Amy thought. "Well, I started out at Boston Fine Arts and did two years there. Then I moved up to New York and did another three at NYU. I have a Bachelor's and a Master of Arts degree."

"Boston? That's was only a little ways away from my alma mater: Bromwell University," Kay said as she turned back to Amy with a smile.

"Really? I spent a few days looking over Bromwell and a few others before I went with B-FAC," Amy said. "Smaller student body, more instructor availability, that kind of thing. But, that was eons ago."

"I'll bet that we know some of the same --" Kay was interrupted by the ringing of a cellular telephone. She reached into her pocket and removed an expensive looking flip phone. "Excuse me just a moment." She flipped open the phone and put it to her ear. "Kay Sloane. . . What do you mean 'served?' " Kay covered the mouth piece and looked back at Amy. "Amy, I have to go. Good to meet you."

Amy watched as Kay walked towards the door, talking on the phone all the while.

"Yes, I know that, but still, he's eighteen and . . . Well, I don't care what that Morgendorffer woman said. . Dammit, how does that make _us _responsible for child support?" Kay snapped as she slipped out of the door.

__

Child support? Amy thought. Then her eyes got wide. _Sloane?? Holy moly, that's got to be Tom's mother, _Kathrine_! What a time to get lost in your work, Barksdale. You should have made that connection in a hot second!_

Then another thought struck her.

"Probably would be a good idea _not _to mention who your sister is," Amy mumbled to her self.

It was nearly impossible for her to concentrate on her work for the rest of the morning.

~~~~~~

The shrill screech of chalk across the blackboard filled the classroom as the old woman who was to be their substitute teacher slowly wrote her name. To a student, everyone in the class cringed as the torture continued, several plugging their ears in pain.

__

I'll tell you the secret formula, just make it stop! Daria thought as the screech went on. She was certain that her developing child had its developing fingers jammed into its developing ears against the noise. Mercifully, the sound abated after a moment, and Daria opened one screwed shut eye to see if it was safe.

At the head of the room, the stoop shouldered old woman who looked to be somewhere in her eighties, looked over partially deafened students with a grandmotherly smile. Beside her, in large, wavy cursive letters she had written "Mrs. Stoller."

"Class, you may have noticed I'm not you're usual teacher," Mrs. Stoller said slowly, graciously pointing out the blindingly obvious.

"If only we didn't have our usual students," Daria said aside to Jane, who replied with a smile.

"Now, for our first lesson, let's learn each others' names. I'm Mrs. Stoller," she said, pointing out the blindly obvious yet again.

"Got it!" Kevin exclaimed. "Man, this class is going to be a breeze!"

__

Finally, he gets one right, Daria thought as she rolled her eyes.

"And you are?" Stoller asked pleasantly

"I'm the Q.B!" Kevin pointed out with his trademark grin.

"Posture, Cubie, posture!" Stoller waver her gnarled finger in Kevin's direction, much to his confusion as he straightened up in his chair.

"We think he's been doing very well considering how he missed out on evolution and all," Daria pointed out, unable to suppress the urge any longer. She was even a little surprised that Kevin knew what posture was.

"And what's you're name, dear?"

"Daria," she said flatly.

"That sounds like a hippy name," Stoller said with a frown. "I think I'll call you 'Darlene.' So much prettier."

Daria and Jane exchanged a pained look. This was not what they were expecting, to be sure. This class was going to be a definite test of their patience.

"And what would your name be, dear?" Stoller asked as she moved on to Jane.

"Jane Lane," she said with a smirk. "But I wouldn't mind it if you gave me a really cool name if you wanted to."

"That's such a nice name. Why would you want something different?" Stoller asked as she moved on to the next student.

"Thanks," Jane mumbled glancing over at Daria. "Dammit, I wanted a new name."

"Want mine? I'm Darlene. I used to be that hippy chick Daria," Daria whispered, placing her chin in her hand and leaning on her desk.

"Thanks, Darlene," Jane said quietly, glancing up at Stoller than back to Daria. "This is gonna be fun."

"Yeah, a laugh a day," Daria replied weakly, suppressing a hiccough of some kind.

"You okay, amiga?" Jane thought she was looking a little pale.

"I think I'm gonna be . . ." Daria didn't finish, bur raised her hand to get the sub's attention. "Mrs. Stoller, can I be excused for a few minutes? I need to use the restroom."

"After we've finished the lesson, Darlene dear," Stoller said in dismissal before she continued on.

"I don't think I can wait that -- _urpff!"_ Daria clamped her hand over her mouth and was out of the door an instant later.

"Now that wasn't very polite for such a nice girl," Stoller said sourly after Daria bolted. "Perhaps our next lesson should be on manners."

"Daria a nice girl," Kevin chuckled under is breath. "Oh, yeah, right!"

Jane shot a dirty look over her shoulder at the quarterback as she collected her and Daria's packs from under the desks. Jane noticed that Jodie and Mack were also sending harsh looks in Kevin's direction.

"And just what do you think that it is that you're doing, young lady?" Stoller asked, bringing Jane's attention back to the front of the room.

"To see to the health and well being of my friend," Jane said with an arched eyebrow as she slung both packs over her shoulder.

"Well, I suppose," Stoller frowned. "On your way then."

"Boy, you'da thought that she would have figured that that was going to happen!" Kevin laughed out loud as Jane left the room

"Cubie, you hush!" Stoller wagged her finger at him again. "And posture, young man! Posture!"

~~~~~~

That evening at the Morgendorffer house was something of a tense one. Daria, Helen, Quinn, and Amy had all congregated in the kitchen that evening. Helen had already come in with a stack of paperwork and was attempting to sort through it at the table, grumbling all the while. Daria had forsaken her usual book and was going over several papers at the table as well, and was looking rather distressed about their subject matter. Amy had just finished setting up her laptop and notes at the breakfast bar when Quinn had come in and taken off on a full speed rant about the substitutes that she'd been forced to deal with that day. Amy was amazed at how fast everyone was able to tune her out once Quinn got going, and idly wondered what their secret was as she corrected a couple of Quinn induced typos.

"How _dare_ those people even try to contest this!" Helen growled at her paperwork as she went through it. "They can easily afford five times what I'm asking! I can't believe that the Sloanes can be so ridiculously _stubborn_ about all of this!"

"Come on, Mom," Daria muttered without looking up. "What exactly did you expect them to do? Capitulate without a fight?"

"I had hoped that they would show some common sense," Helen replied.

__

Like you did when you found out? Daria thought with an eye roll.

__

"Anyway..." Quinn said loudly enough to bring most of the attention back her way. "This guy that's substituting for Mr. O'Neill in Language arts just wouldn't stop talking about this dumb novel he's writing!"

"Mm-hmm," Helen mumbled as she shuffled her paperwork.

"He said it was about some professor who's dating a budding child woman because he wants to blossom her, or something," Quinn rolled her eyes as she took a drink of her diet soda.

"Mm-hmm." Helen glared at another page.

Daria looked up from the papers she was staring at and cocked an eyebrow at Quinn for a second. This was starting to sound suspiciously like something she'd read sometime back.

"_Then_ he started acting out his stupid book for us," Quinn said with a roll of her eyes. "He started stroking Tiffany's hair and telling her about his anguished soul and stuff."

Daria stood, collected her papers and started to head around the table. The last thing that any of them needed to deal with now was some fool who had read Nabakov one too many times. Daria looked up at Amy, who was looking at her watch and counting down with her fingers, having had apparently made the same connection.

Five . . . four . . .three . . .

"Mm-hmm. . ."

Two . . .one . . .

"_What!?_" Helen shouted as Amy mimed an explosion with her hands. "He was _stroking_Tiffany's _hair?!"_

"Yeah, I know," Quinn snorted into her diet soda as Daria walked behind her and took the cordless telephone off of it's deck. "Like Tiffany would ever date anyone who wore a tweed jacket!"

"Daria! Get me the --" Helen started to order, only to find that the objective of her order was being handed to her already. "Oh . . . Thank you."

Daria mumbled a reply as Helen angrily stabbed a number into the phone from memory, and walked over to where Amy was sitting at the breakfast bar. With out even paying any real attention to the rather one-sided conversation behind her, Daria knew that her mother was already tearing into Ms. Li.

"Sounds like things aren't exactly going well with the substitute jailers," Amy said as she collected her own papers.

"Yeah. It looks like Ms. Li decided to hire Humbolt Humbolt to teach language arts," Daria said flatly as she dropped her papers onto the bar.

"Whatcha got there?" Amy nodded at the papers.

"It's something that Dr. Nelson gave me after my sonogram yesterday," Daria said as she slipped up onto the other stool.

"Hey, that's right! Did you bring home any pictures of the future little ankle biter?"

"No. Actually, Jane has them if you want to go and see them," Daria said.

"Why not?"

"It's just something that I don't want to deal with right now. It's just too overwhelming." Daria looked off into space for a moment. "I know it's there and I know it's healthy. Beyond that, I just really don't want to deal with it right now."

__

Wow, she's sporting a serious case of denial, Amy thought worriedly. _Worse than mine was, way back when. I'd better talk to Helen about this . . . _Amy looked over at her sister who was now citing what seemed to be some serious case law at someone. _Maybe later tonight when she's not so busy._

"Okay, so what's this?" Amy brought things back to the present.

"Dr. Nelson called it a 'Birth Plan.' I'm supposed to go over this with Tom and Mom and whoever else, then go back to Dr. Nelson on subsequent appointments and go over it with her." Daria said, looking at the worksheets she had just lain down. "I can't deal with this. I mean look at all this -- Where do I want to give birth? Who do I want to be there? Do I want music? What kinds of medications do I want?" Daria shoved the worksheets in Amy's general direction. "How the hell am I supposed to answer all of this stuff??"

Amy picked up the worksheets and glanced over them as Daria folded her arms and put her head down on top of them. It was a pretty extensive little listing with some sixty questions covering everything from environment, first and second stage labor, cesarean sections, and labor induction if it was necessary. Amy could see that trying to deal with all of this at once would be overwhelming to someone who was having a hard time trying to accept that it was happening at all.

"When's your next appointment supposed to be?" Amy asked as she skimmed over the first section.

"Next month," Daria said from the countertop.

"Well, you don't have to have this completed for another six month's or so. And if I'm reading this right, you don't even have to answer all of them." Amy looked at her niece, who didn't appear to be reassured in any way. In fact, she hadn't even looked up. "Look, I know that I'm not really one to talk, but maybe you ought to get Tom over here. Then the two of you can talk to Helen about some of this stuff. After all, she's been through it with you and Quinn."

"I don't know. Maybe." Daria still didn't look up.

"Dammit, Li, I don't care what his credentials are!" Helen barked, finally losing what little cool she had. "If that _monster _is in that classroom tomorrow morning I swear I'll have the whole school district so wrapped up in litigation your _great grandchildren_ will be answering motions! Do you understand me?!"

Daria finally looked up from her folded arms and sighed heavily as she looked back in the direction of the table. Quinn was watching Helen go ballistic and slowly slid out of her chair, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She slowly walked, backwards, over to where Daria and Amy were sitting.

"Is this what Mom was like when you broke the news to her?" Quinn asked her sister.

"Mildly," Daria replied with a sigh. _Oh, yeah. Talking to Mom is just going to be a barrel of laughs._

~~~~~~

Angela Li stood on the steps of Lawndale High as two officers of the Lawndale Police Department took a sobbing Ken Edwards, former Language Arts substitute, out to their patrol car. She couldn't believe that she hadn't checked into his background more closely. A simple search of the security camera tapes from yesterday had revealed that his action towards the Blum-Deckler girl had been wholly inappropriate and were sufficient enough for him to be fired on the spot. She would have never believed that Helen Morgendorffer would have the gall to go behind her back and undermine her authority in Lawndale's school system.

Apparently, that Morgendorffer woman had someone run a background check on Mr. Edwards, which was quite a trick, considering that it was after hours for most of the city and state offices. Edwards had been fired five minutes after he had arrived at work, and two minutes after that two uniformed officers had shown up with an arrest warrant. While one officer cuffed and Mirandized Edwards, the other informed Ms. Li that the former substitute was a registered sex offender in two states and was wanted for violations of parole, probation, and half a dozen restraining orders.

"Damn that woman!" Li muttered for the tenth time that morning as the patrol car pulled away.

"Angela, I've finished checking the records for potential substitutes," Diane Bennett said as she came walking out onto the school's front steps. "None of them will come in on this kind of short notice! And all of them are on the side of the striking teachers, because -- "

"Yes, I know, because they get a contractual raise also and they all want their precious money," Li grumbled as she turned around and looked at one of the few teachers loyal to Lawndale High.

"So, what do we do?" Bennett asked, drawing a glowering look.

"The Morgendorffers got us into this mess. It seems only fitting that the Morgendorffers get us out of it." Li turned around and stormed back into the school building with Bennett on her heels.

"Angela, what are you going to do?"

"Never you mind, Diane. Go back to your classroom," Li said as she walked into her office and locked the door behind her. Picking up the mic for the public address system, she hit the power and triggered the mic at almost the same moment.

"_Attention!_" Li barked. "Would Miss Daria Morgendorffer please report to the principal's office! _Now!!_"

As Li sat down behind her desk, she had no doubts that convincing Daria to do what she wanted her to do would be difficult. She was really the only student in the school that had ever had the nerve to stand up to Li when she was confronted. However, if what Li suspected from observing Daria's activities over the last few weeks combined with what she had heard form Morris and various others was indeed true, Daria would have no choice.

~~~~~~

__

There's only one reason that she could be calling me down to her office, Daria thought as she walked through the corridors. After a few short minutes, she knocked at the office door, and Daria Morgendorffer entered the lion's den.

"You wanted to see me?" Daria asked as she walked into the office.

"Take a seat, Miss Morgendorffer. You are no doubt aware of what happened this morning, so I won't go into details," Li said, her fingers steepled on the desk in front of her. "Needless to say, we are now in a rather precarious position as we have no one available to teach the Junior Language Arts class."

"I see," Daria said with that cursedly unflappable deadpan. "Just what would this have to do with me?"

"It's very simple. Your mother got us into this mess. It is only fitting that you get us out of it." Li cocked her eyebrow. "I want you to take over teaching the Junior Language Arts Class."

"Excuse me?" Daria said uneasily. She was expecting to be made the carrier pigeon for some silly grudge match between Li and her mother, but nothing like this.

"You heard me correctly, Miss Morgendorffer. I require you to teach the class."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Li, but I think that maybe Jodie Landon would be a little better qualified if for something like this," Daria said as she started to get out of her chair. _I don't need this at all right now, dammit._

"Sit back down, young lady. I'm not sure that you understand the conditions of what I am asking." Li's voice turned somewhat colder. "Certain rumors about you have come to my attention and, whether or not they turn out to be true, only time will tell. Personally I'm willing speculate that, should these rumors turn out to, indeed, be true, then certain Physical Education requirements can be lifted, and academic loads can be lightened."

"And if I refuse?" Daria asked with her own cold glare.

"Now, why would you want to do that? If someone asked me to teach a class, I would be honored," Li said. "Besides, you know good and well that we wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for your mother."

"Oh, yeah. Hire one pedophile and she gets all bent out of shape. Besides, I'm not thinking of me, I'm thinking of the children." Daria was about to go into snow-job mode and convince Li that Jodie really was the best for the job and how the rumor mill didn't know beans.

__

Not so fast, the darker side of her nature cut in. She could almost imagine a version of herself with horns, a forked tail, and barbed pitchfork floating over her right shoulder. _You'll get out of gym class._

You? A scab? The better half of her psyche piped in. Daria's mind immediately assembled a halo and white wings on another version of herself that hovered over her left shoulder.

__

Oh, great! Touched by an angel, her darker persona groused.

__

You'd be betraying your teachers! Her angelic half warned.

__

Yeah! You'd be betraying your teachers! Her devilish side thought that was a pretty good idea, considering.

__

Okay, bad point, the angelic half conceded. _You'd just be falling into the same trap that management always uses to keep wages low and workers weak._

Oh, go dance on the head of a pin, will ya? Her devil half sneered in Daria's ear. _You can make Quinn's life really miserable!_

Huh. Good point. That kind of thing was always good for her 'cousin.'

__

Hey, you hungry?

Yeah. We can pick this up later.

"Well, Miss Morgendorffer?" Li's voice cut into Daria's musings. "I'm waiting . . ."

__

For an answer to an offer that I can't refuse. Daria sighed. "All right, I'll teach the class."

"Excellent! I'm sure that you won't be disappointed!" Li said as she stood up and motioned for Daria to follow her.

__

And when all this is over, we hang Li out to dry. On a pike, Daria's dark side growled in her head.

__

Amen to that, her angelic half agreed, equally angry.

Daria couldn't find any reason to argue with either of them.

~~~~~~

The Fashion Club continued to sit in the teacherless class after Edwards had been summoned to the office. That had been close to half an hour ago, and the students were quickly starting to get restless. As soon as the teacher had left, the Fashion Clubbers had broken out their bibles of fashion, _Waif_ Magazine, and began to study what was truly important: what was in.

Quinn flipped through her copy of the magazine, but was paying more attention to Tiffany. Once Helen had calmed down some, Quinn had been able to get glean a few more bits of information as her mother had called across half the state, digging up more information on Ken Edwards. More information than Quinn really wanted to know, once she got right down to it, and found out how close they had come to a real disaster. She had ducked out of the house as soon as had been practical, taking her pack of cigarettes with her for a trip to the Village Green Park and a semi-clandestine smoke.

"This is a waste of time," Sandi complained as she flipped through her copy of the magazine, bringing Quinn crashing back to the present. "Especially with today being the first day of Cashman's Cruise wear Craziness."

Quinn was about to say something when the door to the classroom had opened. For a moment, Quinn thought that Edwards was about to come back in, but was only slightly relieved when Ms. Li entered instead.

"Attention, young people!" Ms Li said, even though it was a given that she already had their attention. "Mr. Edwards will no longer be joining us due to . . . reasons."

__

Yeah, reasons that'd freak out half the class, Quinn thought.

"I hope it's not his anguish acting up," Tiffany said, oblivious to the fact that she had been a hell of a lot closer to real anguish than she would ever have known.

"However," Li continued. "I am pleased to introduce a substitute with tolerable credentials and who is far less likely to engender a lawsuit that could cost me my very pants."

Quinn looked up, curious despite herself to see who the new teacher was going to be. Her heart jumped into her throat when Daria walked into the room.

"Hello. My name is Miss Darlene, and I'll be your new teacher," Daria said flatly, with a sidelong glare at the principal.

Quinn, however, was silently wishing for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

~~~~~~

Jake Morgendorffer sat at the breakfast table, looking longingly at the eggs and bacon that his youngest daughter seemed to be studiously ignoring. He had rapidly polished off the pile of off yellow egg whites that were supposed be the equivalent of two eggs, as well as the measly strip of bacon that Helen had allowed him. She was always watching what Jake was eating ever since he had that heart attack, but she didn't do a damn thing about her own breakfast. With everything that had happened in the last three weeks or so, finding out that Daria was pregnant and the crap that the high school principal seemed to be pulling, Jake would have given anything for a decent breakfast.

__

Two big, grade A eggs, over easy -- no, three! And bacon, done up just right. Or sausage. There ya go, Jake thought, salivating at the thought. He shook his head to clear the image and reached for the paper, while he fished his recently acquired reading glasses out of his inside jacket pocket. _A real breakfast. Yeah, dream on, Jakey._

"Well, I can't say that I agree with what Ms. Li's doing," Helen was saying to Quinn that next morning at breakfast. "Daria doesn't need any more stress to deal with than what she's got right now."

"Doesn't this, like, break child labor laws or something?" Quinn wined plaintively, ignoring her bacon and eggs.

"Unfortunately no. I've looked." Helen frowned. The fact that she hadn't seen something like this coming with Li galled her to the core. "There has to be a bright side to this. I mean, how many students have access to their teachers twenty four hours a day?"

"But I don't _want_ access!" Quinn said, turning up the heat on her mother. "Home is supposed to be my sanitarium away from school!"

Daria walked into the kitchen at that moment, looking like she hadn't slept very well the night before. In fact, now that Jake thought about it, Daria had looked the same way the last couple of mornings.

__

All because of that miserable Sloane punk, I bet, Jake thought. _Shoulda gone with my first instinct and wrung that little punk's neck._

"Good morning Mom, Dad, class," Daria said tiredly as she walked stopped by the table.

"Augh! Mo-_om_, you _can't _let her teach this class!" Quinn wined before she got up and stormed out in disgust.

"What's wrong with your sister?" Helen asked, glancing in the direction that Quinn had just taken.

"It's her grades," Daria said. "Or rather, it will be."

"Daria," Helen started to say.

"Maybe we ought to have a talk with Ms. Li," Jake said, finally putting his paper down. "Tell her that she can't do this kind of thing without out permission, or something like that."

"Dad, it's all right," Daria said as she sat at her usual place. "None of those teachers, with the possible exception of DeMartino, has the fortitude to stick with this strike for more than another few days. And Ms. Li isn't dumb enough to think that any of the substitutes she has on the payroll are going to stick around for much longer without demanding the same pay hike the others are."

"Well, I still don't like it, but if you're sure," Helen said with a sigh. "But the minute that you think that this is starting to become too much, you tell me."

"Yeah," Jake said, perking up a little. "Then you'll be able to help old Dad with his model railroading. Just you and me, kiddo, and it'll be all aboard the Big Jake Express!"

"Um, yeah," Daria said as the doorbell rang.

"Who could that be?" Jake asked, looking at his watch. "Quinn's already left."

"That's probably Tom." Daria stood up. 

"Tom?" Jake frowned. "What the hell is he doing here at _this_ hour? Doesn't he have anything better to do, like go to school himself? Or does he pay someone to do that for him?"

"Jake, Tom's driving Daria to school," Helen put in. "We talked about this, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Jake looked blankly at his paper again, fuming quietly.

"See you tonight," Daria said as she headed out of the kitchen.

"You come straight home, remember!" Helen called after her daughter. "I'm going to be calling!"

Jake sat for a few moments in silence after Daria left. When he thought enough time had passed -- about two minutes -- Jake looked at his watch and started to get up.

"Well, I'd better get to work. Big day ahead," Jake said with a forced cheer in his voice.

"Jake, sit back down," Helen said with a slight frown. "Daria told me about how you tailgated Tom and her all the way to the school yesterday. You're not going anywhere just yet."

"Dammit, Helen! That punk's the _cause_ of all of this!" Jake nearly shouted. "How can you tell me you're comfortable leaving her alone with him? God only knows what he's trying to talk her into right now!"

"Jake, _calm down_," Helen chided. "Tom's been doing a very good job of trying to take his share of the responsibility for what happened. We talked about this, too, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember. Well, where the hell was he when our little girl was getting roped into this teaching thing, huh?" Jake asked angrily.

"Oh, Jake, he doesn't even go to the same school!" Helen sighed.

"Oh, sure, throw that in my face!" Jake stood up and stormed out of the kitchen.

Helen sighed as she watched him walk out. She was having a hard time trying to decide who was acting more childish, her husband or her youngest daughter.

~~~~~~

Trent pulled his blue bomber of a car into the circle drive in front of Lawndale High and caught sight of the group of striking teachers as he pulled up. He did a quick count and figured that about half of the faculty was out there, either leaning on or standing and holding some kind of a picket sign. Old Mr. DeMartino, Trent saw, was prowling around in a circle in front of the school's main entrance. The last time the teachers raises had become an issue, Trent was a junior and had found out that DeMartino had had to teach a sewing class. Trent had almost signed up for it just to watch the over-stressed old teacher disintegrate.

What really caught Trent's attention, though, was Mr. O'Neill sitting cross-legged on the grass with a guitar over his lap. He had to shake his head as he pulled up to the curb a few paces away from his former Language Arts teacher and killed the engine. O'Neill must be having some kind of flash-back to his own days in the sixties and seventies by trying to turn the strike into some kind of rally.

"On top of our pay checks, right under the date," Trent heard O'Neill sing as he got out of his car. "Sits a small number, that we've all grown to hate. . ." He stopped playing and pondered for a moment. "I don't know. 'Hate' is such an ugly word."

"Cool tune, man," Trent said as he got out of the car and walked up behind O'Neill, who looked around. "Classic feel."

"Wait, I know you!" O'Neill said with a smile.

"You're on Spiral's mailing list?" Trent asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"No, you were one of my students," O'Neill got up and walked over to Trent, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Trent Lane."

"Um . . ."

"Trent, do you remember when you used to write 'down with the man' on my car with soap?" O'Neill asked with what looked like hopefulness.

"Just let it go, man. I mean, bygones, right?" Trent said. _Forgetful Jones here remembers something I did when I was a freshman, but he can't remember who's in this year's class? Jeez._

"Well, Trent," O'Neill went on. "Today 'the man' is coming down on us -- the underpaid teachers of Lawndale High. And we could really the help of a talented songwriter."

"Well, I don't know," Trent scratched the back of his neck. He's really come to take Daria and Jane over to Pizza King for lunch.

"Trent, this is a chance to focus your energy on a cause _worthy_ of your talent, your knowledge, your virtuosity!" O'Neill was really trying to butter him up, Trent could tell.

And it was working.

"I don't have to read music, do I?" Trent sighed, caving in for the moment.

"No!" O'Neil said with a smile as he handed over the guitar.

As Trent sat down on the grass with O'Neill and his guitar, Daria and Jane were leaving the school building through another entrance. Trent looked up after strumming a couple of chords to get used to the instrument in his hands and spotted the two girls made their way towards the crowd. Trent immediately handed the guitar back to O'Neill, who was just sitting back down.

"Wait, what's wrong?" O'Neill confusedly asked.

"Sorry, man. Previous commitment." Trent stood and started to walk away.

"But, what about our song?"

"I'll be back this afternoon, okay?" Trent said over his shoulder as he dove through the crowd of teachers.

"Well, what do you know?" Jane said admiringly as Trent walked up to her. "You're actually on time for a change."

"Yeah, well, I've been up all morning," Trent replied with an eyebrow cocked at his sister. "I set my alarm and when it went off I found out that some one had set my clock ahead four hours. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Well . . . " Jane looked a little guilty.

"How you doing, Daria?" Trent asked. "Everything all right?"

"Well, I guess I'm doing okay," Daria said, a little confused by his sudden attention. "However, I'm not sure that you've adjusted to the time change. Did we just see you working on a song with Mr. O'Neill?"

"Well, yeah. He said that they needed a song for their strike thing." Trent sighed. "I told him that I'd be back this afternoon."

"Oh, you're just too good natured," Jane said with a smirk. "If a teacher tried to take advantage of me like that, I'd tell them right where to stick it!"

"Jane! Thank God!"

All three of them turned to see Ms Defoe, the art teacher quickly walking their way from out of the crowd. She was carrying a picket sign that had a roughly drawn picture of an upraised fist inside the circle of the 'female' symbol. She walked up to them and held out the sign for Jane to peruse.

__

Yeah, any teacher but this one, Trent thought as he saw an 'oh, crap' look cross his sister's face for a moment.

"We need your taste and talent," Defoe said, giving the sign a dirty look.

"Well, go on Jane," Daria said, silently daring Jane to follow through. "Offer that piece of friendly advice you just mentioned."

"Huh?" Defoe asked as Jane gave Daria a look. "Jane, it's Ms Barch's signs. They aren't really getting our messages across."

"Yeah, I can see that," Jane said.

"Can you help us design some strong, graphic statements? I'll write a note to get you out of class," Defoe offered hopefully before she realized that she had no way to follow through at the moment. "Oh, wait. I guess I can't."

"No, but the scab can," Jane said with a smirk and pointed with her thumb towards Daria.

"Gee, thanks, Mr. Hoffa," Daria said as she unlimbered her back pack and reached in for her steno pad.

~~~~~~

Jodie and Mack listened to Mrs. Stoller drone on at the front of the room and killed the time by passing notes back and forth, playing word games with each other. In their notes, the two wondered exactly what kind of progress Daria was having with the Language Arts class a few doors up the hall. They had both noticed early on that Daria hadn't seemed to be quite herself for the last few days, but figured that she would work through things like she usually did and really hadn't brought the subject up.

Mack cocked his eyebrow as he wrote his turn for their word game down on the slip of paper that they were passing back and forth. He was thinking he might just have Jodie cornered this time, when Jane walked into the classroom.

"Young lady, you're tardy," Stoller said, interrupting her monotonous monologue about Washington to give Jane a harsh look.

"Gee, he wasn't very focused," Brittany commented, having actually been paying attention for a change.

"I have a note from a teacher," Jane handed Stoller a sheet of paper.

"Hmm. 'Please excuse Jane from class. Signed, Miss Darlene,' " Stoller frowned at the note for a moment. "Oh, the one the principal was talking to the school nurse about. Well, on your way, then."

Mack and Jodie exchanged a look as Jane walked out of the room.

"School nurse?" Mack whispered as Stoller resumed her lesson.

"Search me," Jodie shrugged. "I knew that she was looking awfully tired the last couple of days, but I didn't think it was anything _that_ serious."

"Maybe we ought to go talk to her," Mack said. "She's not the kind of person to say much when something's really wrong."

"Yeah, I know." Jodie frowned. _But then, Daria can be a little hard to read._

She had only known Daria for a little more than two years, but one thing she was sure of was that Daria let very little show by way of emotion. When she did let something show, it was usually because something had sat and festered long past anyone else's breaking point. Maybe Daria had reached hers.

Jodie remembered about a week ago when the Fashion Club had set up a stand to sell their short lived news letter. Sandi Griffin had made some kind of backhanded remark about "her condition" as Daria and Jane were walking by and gotten her foot promptly mashed by Quinn -- "accidentally," of course. Jodie had hung out at the stand long enough to try and put out that particular brush fire before it started. However, in the intervening class period, before Jodie had saw Daria, Sandi had apparently talked to several more students and started the grapes on the vine to talking.

Jodie didn't believe it for a minute, and had written off the verbal mauling that Daria had given Kevin Thompson in the corridor to the fact that Daria had just flatly had enough. Now, though, she was starting to rethink what she knew of the situation. Over the last few weeks, Daria had occasionally had to leave class a few times in a big hurry. Her emotions seemed to be running a lot closer to the surface than they ever had in the past. Finally, she looked exhausted most of the time, something that didn't mean that the rumors were necessarily true, but made sense -- Jodie's mother had looked wiped out most of the time she was pregnant with Evan.

Jodie was so lost in her ruminations that she jumped in her seat when the bell rang to end class. She quickly gathered her books as she stood up, getting Mack's attention.

"C'mon, Mack. Let's go find Daria."

"Okay," Mack said simply, knowing when Jodie was on a mission and there wasn't much he could do that would stop her.

They found Daria, along with Jane, by the lockers, the former having been cornered by Kevin, Brittany, and Charles Ruttheimer. It seemed that all three were sucking up for some kind of pass out of whatever classes they were in. Kevin, however, seemed to think that she could get him out of dealing with his Dad for denting the car with his jeep.

Mack had heard about how Daria had tore into Kevin from Jodie, who had witnessed the whole thing, and quickly stepped in to save his slow witted friend form another pasting. Judging by Daria's slightly haggard look, he was heading into another at full speed.

"Hey, Kevin! Coach wants to see you out on the field about something," Mack said as they walked up to the group.

"Hey, thanks, Mack Daddy," Kevin said as he headed off in the opposite direction.

"I really wish he'd quit calling me that," Mack sighed, looking skyward.

"You want him to start calling you 'bro' again?" Jane asked.

"Ugh. Bite your tongue." Mach shuddered.

"So, want to walk with us to class?" Jodie asked, making 'let's go _now'_ motions with her eyes.

"Uh, sure Jodie. See ya, Upchuck," Daria said as she fell in step with Jodie and Mack, with Jane close behind.

"Maybe, but I'll definitely see you first," Upchuck purred lecherously.

Daria rolled her eyes. God, that guy was irritating. She had to wonder what would happen if any female in Lawndale High were desperate enough to take him up on one of his propositions. She and Jane had bet that he'd either faint dead away, or run away screaming, however, they had no intention of trying to resolve the bet.

"So, Jodie, considering that our next class is in the opposite wing of the building, what can I do for you?" Daria asked as they walked.

"Well, Daria, I want to ask you something, but if I'm wrong it'll be kind of embarrassing," Jodie said slowly. "We kind of wanted to talk to you about it in private, more or less."

"That explains why we're headed towards the gym," Jane pointed out. "You're not worried about cutting a class?"

"Are you serious?" Mack asked. "Have you seen the guy they have filling in for Government? All he talks about is the evolution of tax law."

"Well, the IRS is everywhere," Daria said as they walked up to the double doors that led into the gym.

The four students entered the massive room and crossed over to the bleachers on the opposite side. They climbed up a few levels before sitting down in a rough circle, their books and packs nearby.

"So, what did you want to ask me?" Daria asked.

"Well, I've been doing some thinking. Yesterday wasn't the only time that you had to leave class in a rush, because I remember you had to do it a few times over the last few weeks. Then there was last week when Sandi said something about a 'condition' that you had and you ripped into Kevin a little later."

"Your point being what?" Daria said. "Kevin's got a big mouth and a pea brain. He had it coming."

"I'm not denying that, but there's some other things that I've been noticing," Jodie said. "Like the fact that you look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep for three or four days now. My mom looked wiped out all of the time when she was carrying my baby brother. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that you really _were _pregnant."

Daria slumped back on the bench behind her. Mack and Jodie looked a little surprised for a moment, while Jane glanced around the gym, looking for any obvious eavesdroppers. Mack followed suit after a stunned moment, but Jodie couldn't take her eyes off Daria.

"Oh my god," Jodie whispered, looking surprised and a bit guilty.

"You really _are _pregnant?" Mack asked quietly.

"Yes, guys, I really am pregnant," Daria said sullenly. "The reason that I've had to leave class in a hurry is obvious -- morning sickness. I've only just started to show a little in the last couple of days, but my jacket keeps that under wraps, at least for the moment. And the reason I look like hell is that, ever since my parents found out, I've been treated like either a porcelain doll or a prisoner at home. The fact that Ms Li has me teaching this stupid class hasn't helped matters any, either."

"But how did you--? I mean who did you --? I mean --" Jodie started to ask, but was stopped by Daria's upraised hand.

"Our protection failed, and that's all I intend to say about it, okay? I've had to tell that particular story to my family more times than I ever wanted to and don't particularly want to tell it again." Daria dropped her hand. "And I don't need another lecture on teen sex right now, all right?"

"Fair enough," Jodie said. "I didn't mean to sound like the spokesperson for the moral majority. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Daria sighed. "I've just been a little edgy lately."

"Daria, if you want, Mack and I can take over teaching the Language Arts class for you," Jodie offered.

"Sure. That way Jodie and I can get out of history class and you can have a little more free time to yourself, if you want it." Mack seconded.

"That's all right, Mack. I got roped into it, so I'll get through it as best as I can," Daria said as she stood back up. "Besides, it's pretty much the same thing that we had last year."

"Well, if you say so," Jodie said. "But if you change your mind, let us know, okay?"

"I wouldn't mind getting out of that class anyway," Mack said. "I swear, that Mrs. Stoller acts like she should be talking to a bunch of first graders."

"Actually, she probably thinks she is," Jane said as she stood up beside Daria.

"What do you mean?" Jodie asked.

"I dug up an old yearbook from way back when my brother Trent went to Lincoln Elementary," Jane said. "Loretta Stoller was his first grade teacher, and she retired the year after at age seventy two."

"That actually explains a lot," Jodie said.

"We're going to homeroom," Daria said as she and Jane descended the bleachers. "Later."

"Yeah, later."

Jodie and Mack sat and quietly watched as Daria and Jane left the gym. Neither one of them said anything until the doors closed behind the two girls.

"Wow," Jodie said.

"No kidding. Who's the father, do you think?" Mack asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Well, she was seeing that Tom Sloane. Maybe it's him." Jodie speculated.

"Makes sense, I guess. They've been seeing each other long enough," Mack said.

There was a long few minutes of silence before either of them spoke again.

"Mack?"

"Hmm?" Mack looked up and was surprised at the guilty look on Jodie's face.

"Why do I keep thinking 'Better them than us?' "

~~~~~~

The next day's Language Arts class was plodding by at a snail's pace. Daria had planned to go over what she felt were several key scenes in Romeo and Juliet and have the students read them and ask questions so they understood them a little better. But no good plan ever survives first contact with the enemy, and Daria wound up coaching most of the readers on how to read the script. All of them had some problems with the Old English speech patterns, and Joey, Jeffy, and Jamie had almost gotten in a fight over Romeo's part when Quinn was asked to read for Juliet.

"For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her . . . Romeo?" Jamie White haltingly read from his copy of The Bard's plays.

"Thank you Joey, Jeffy, or Jamie," Daria said tiredly, not really caring which was which right now. "Lawrence Olivier, in his present state, couldn't have done better."

"Cool!" Jamie grinned as he sat back down. He'd just seen that Olivier fellow on an old movie last night, though he couldn't remember the what character he'd been playing.

"What does woe mean?" Jeffy asked, looking up from his copy of the play.

"It's like the feeling you'd get if the Super Bowl were preempted by _Antiques Roadshow,_" Daria said with barely any hesitation.

"Whoa!" Joey exclaimed, wide eyed.

"See?" Daria smirked before taking another question from further back.

In the back corner of the classroom, Quinn smirked slightly to herself as she jotted down part of the little exchange going on in front of the room. The other three Fashion Clubbers had spent most of the period with their noses buried in fashion magazines. Ordinarily, Quinn would be doing the same thing, but she was finding that she actually enjoyed Daria's teaching style.

"Quinn," Stacy's voice suddenly intruded. "Are you taking notes?"

Quinn looked up to see Stacy looking over her shoulder at her with the most curious look on her face. Stacy's question also attracted Tiffany's and Sandi's attention, Quinn saw, and cringed slightly under Sandi's frowning glare.

"Uh, no!" Quinn stammered, trying to cover. "I'm just, er, writing so that girl thinks I'm paying attention when I'm not really."

"Who cares what teachers think," Sandi said with a derisive snort. "They're all such losers."

"Yeah, eww . . ." Tiffany drawled, going back to her magazine.

Quinn glanced at the front of the room to see if Daria had heard anything Sandi had said. So far, though, she had given no indication that she had heard anything.

"Uh, she's not a real teacher, Sandi. She's a substitute," Quinn said guardedly. _God, what is Sandi's problem?_

"Oh. A _substitute_ loser," Sandi said flippantly.

"Okay," Daria said from the front of the room. "You've all read the play -- tomorrow you take the test."

"Test?" Sandi said amongst the collected moans and groans of the students.

__

Well, duh, Sandi, Quinn thought. _Why do you think they were reading the play?_

"Sorry, orders from above," Daria said, tossing her pack over her shoulder as the groans died down. "I'd suggest that you cheat off your neighbor, but considering who most of you are sitting next to . . .mmmff!"

Quinn looked on as Daria started heading for the door rather quickly with her hand over her mouth. The rest of the class just watched as she left, Quinn looking a little worried, and Sandi with a knowing smirk on her face.

"I guess that means class is dismissed," Stacy said with a little confusion.

"Yeeaahh," Tiffany blinked as the bell rang to confirm it.

"Hmph," Sandi grumbled as she gathered her books and magazines. "Fashion Club meeting at my house immediately after school to discuss this test and what we can do about it."

__

Oh, great, Quinn thought. _Just freaking great._

~~~~~~

Amy walked into Kay Sloane's museum office and dropped down on the ornate leather sofa that was in there, dropping a file folder next to her. The secretary said that it would be only a few minutes, but Amy had worked with enough museum board members to know that those few minutes could easily turn into an hour or more. The whole room was done up in lots of dark wood paneling, all of it probably oak, Amy surmised. Several bookcases were laden with reference material and old auction catalogs, while older looking knickknacks were spread throughout the room. Obviously modern office equipment sat on a computer desk behind Kay's large, antique looking desk, leaving it free for other things.

She sat for a moment and cleaned her glasses on the hem of her blouse before restlessness drove her out of the sofa to prowl the room. Amy briefly examined a couple of the more personal looking items on the desk in an effort to kill time while she waited for Kay. Glancing at the desk, Amy saw the usual family photos arranged across it's surface. She saw one family photo with Kay and Tom, whom she immediately recognized, as well as a younger girl and an man about the same age as Kay, whom she assumed were her daughter and husband. Individual pictures of each of them were there as well. An overly large magnifying glass with a wooden handle sat on a stack of documents, obviously being used as a paperweight. A small brass plate on it to be the Bromwell Forensics Club Award for Excellence, presented to one Kay Maxwell way back in 1973.

Amy put the magnifying glass back on the stack of papers and began to peruse the paintings and pictures on the office wall. Her attention was quickly drawn to a place mat sized photograph of what looked to be a large number of people. Three or four hundred little, bug sized faces were arranged in five rows across the length of the picture. Two of them, about half way towards the right hand side of the picture were circled with a small heart. Inlaid gold lettering and a French lily and Ivy crest proclaimed it to be a picture of the graduating class of Bromwell University, 1974.

Leaning in a little, Amy squinted through her class as she tried to make out the features of the two circled faces. She knew perfectly well that one of the smudge-like faces had to be Kay, and was wondering what her current boss had looked like way back then. Unable to make out any real features, Amy shrugged and turned away from the photo on the wall, walking back over to the sofa to sit back down.

Bromwell University. Amy had almost gone to college there, but had decided that it was too expensive and too stuck up. It was also too close to a period of her life that, while she didn't want to forget entirely, she didn't want to revisit it very many times either. She hadn't thought that New Town was all that bad a place on the whole, despite the wholly unoriginal name, but it came with the same kind of feel that Bromwell had: more privacy fences than public parking and even the used cars were worth a year's salary.

__

What the hell do you mean you're pregnant?! _How do you even know?_

The doctor told me just yesterday, that's how I know!

I just finished my first year! The absolute last _thing I need is a rug rat screwing things up right now!_

Amy rubbed her temples as the echoes of her past subsided. She hadn't really thought about that time in her past until Daria had dropped the news of her. Thankfully, Daria seemed to have more of a support system in her friends and family, despite the bumps, than Amy had at the time. They way Amy's mother had reacted had made Helen's initial reaction to Daria's news seem tame by comparison.

__

And Mom wonders why I never call, Amy thought with a sigh. _Six months of 'convalescence,' as she called that silent treatment she gave me in between harangues._

Amy winced at the memory of some of those fights, some little more than snapped bits of sentences fired across the room and back. Others were screaming matches, epic in their scope as they ranged across the Barksdale house. Amy had looked for active support in her Father, but had found none, though she found out that he wasn't backing up her Mother either. Rita was no help at all, going out of her way to be the perfect little girl.

When Amy headed off to go to Boston Fine Arts College, Mom and Dad were no help their either. Well, no that wasn't completely true, Amy had to admit. Dad did help some by greasing the skids with a few building owners he knew in Boston to get Amy a decent place to stay at a decent price, though she still had to work full time to make the rent. The downside was that they knew exactly where she was and, when it wasn't Rita on her case, Mother was in the city, bird dogging her daughter's every move. The constant pressure had drove her to transfer out of Boston and up to New York, and into therapy for a year and a half.

__

Seventy five dollars an hour, three times a week, on top of college and working, Amy thought with a shake of her head. _Thank heaven for understanding roommates. And Helen._

She had bumped into her sister who had come to New York for a rally of some kind, along with a few of her friends from "The Movement" for old time's sake, and her new boyfriend Jake. Amy remembered almost laughing her self into tears when Helen told her about how he gave the Pentagon a good swift kick when their "positive energy" wasn't enough to levitate it. By the time the night was over, both of them were in tears for different reasons. It had been a long, long night, but Amy was finally able to quit seeing the therapist a few days after that.

True, Helen and Amy didn't communicate all that often, but it was a lot more often than Amy and her Mother had spoken. Rita had, eventually tracked Amy down again, this time on the arm of some aspiring painter that was teaching at NYU. Communication among the three sisters was sporadic, slow, and sometimes heated, but it was there. Amy and Evelyn Barksdale had yet to exchange a civil word. 

Amy took off her glasses and shook her head slightly, somewhat in wonder that she hadn't thought this much about that time in her life in a long time. It figured that it would have come back to the surface sooner or later, what with he situation with Daria now, but Amy realized that is was all the talk of Bromwell that had kicked over this particular apple cart.

__

The boy stood on the burning deck, his feet were full of blisters, Amy thought with a deep breath, and slamming the door to the memory vault. _He tore his pants on a rusty nail, so now he wears his sister's._

The therapist in New York had taught her that little memory blocking trick years and years ago. She'd hadn't had to use it in a quite some time. It figured that, now that she was about neck deep in Daria's problems, and would be for a while, that old memories would try and ride the wave to the surface. She didn't need memories of her own rough patches to come back and raise hell now that she had resolved to help Daria get through hers.

__

Now if that Kay Sloane would just get her fanny in here, Amy thought as she looked at her watch and picked up the file folder that she had dropped when she came in. _Maybe I ought to teach her the memory blocking trick before I tell her that one of her collection's central pieces is a fake._

~~~~~~

__

Damn you, Sandi Griffin! Quinn thought as she walked home across the Village Green Park. _How can you put me in a position like this?_

She sat down at the base of the bearded guy's statue and searched through one of the inside pockets of her backpack until she came up with her pack of cigarettes and disposable lighter. She frowned at the ground in front of her as she pulled out one of the slim cigarettes and lit it with a couple of puffs. The acrid smoke filled nose and throat for a moment before she blew it out in a long, bluish jet into the air. Her head swam a little with the effects of the tobacco, but it wasn't enough to settle her down any. 

Quinn had really wanted to skip the Fashion Club meeting that Sandi had called, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. She had been sitting on Sandi's bed, feeling decidedly uncomfortable about the whole thing, as the meeting took place after school as Sandi had ordered. Tiffany had sat down on the floor on one side of the room and was meticulously applying mascara, seemingly one eyelash at a time, while Stacy had stretched out in her stomach and was pouring over an article on accessories. Sandi, however, had immediately ignored the two girls and turned her full attentions on her hapless vice president.

"Quinn, I hope that substitute that you've been making excuses for won't be holding us to the same rigid grading standards as everyone else," Sandi said with a cocked eyebrow at Quinn. "Perhaps you should remind her how popular we are."

"Yeah, but she's weird," Quinn had said. She figured she ought to know. "I don't think she even cares about popular people!"

"See, there you go, sticking up for her _again,_" Sandi said with a slight frown. "It's almost as if you two share some deep, dark secret that might inadvertently come out if tomorrow's test proves too difficult."

"Look, Sandi, I don't --" Quinn started to say, but was cut off.

"Of course, certain _rumors _could also suddenly solidify into _facts_," Sandi said with a glare at Quinn.

"You mean like how Angie really isn't a natural blonde?" Stacy piped up from the floor.

"She isn't?" Tiffany said slowly, not looking up from her mirror.

"No, she . . .eep!" Stacy looked up to see Sandi's standing over her with her hands on her hips. She buried her face back in her magazine and tried to sink into the carpet.

"What exactly do you mean, Sandi?" Quinn had asked nervously.

"Like the rumor that a certain substitute has a certain condition." Sandi turned back to Quinn. "Details about things like that tend to be particularly nasty. Whether they happen to be true or _not_."

__

Meaning whatever story that your conniving little mind can make up, Quinn thought with a frown as she took another pull on her cigarette. _I suppose that I should be glad that it wasn't Stacy sitting in Pizza King that day. She can't keep her mouth shut to save her life sometimes. At least Sandi had the good sense to call me about it first, but I could still kill her._

Quinn knew better than anyone what kind of stresses her sister was under, save Daria herself, because she was taking the fallout from it as well. Her parents were riding heard on her almost constantly, enforcing that stupid nine o'clock curfew that Helen had drunkenly instituted, as well as insisting that they meet each and every one of her dates. Because of that, she'd only been on three dates over the last couple of weeks, a secret that she managed to keep from Sandi's ears for the time being. Her popularity was being slowly killed, and if came out that her sister was pregnant, then it would go down the tubes in a heartbeat.

__

That shouldn't matter, Quinn thought as she got up and started walking again. _But it does, dammit. There has to be a way that I can convince Daria not to make this too hard. Unfortunately, there's only one way that I can think of to do that._

Quinn took one final pull off of her cigarette as she rounded the corner to her house. She stopped momentarily to grind out the stub under the toe of her shoe and take a stick of gum from her pack to disguise her breath till she could get to some mouthwash or something, then continued on. She saw that Tom's car was sitting out in front of the house, and silently hoped that her Dad wasn't home. She didn't need to be a witness to a confrontation between those two tonight.

Taking a deep breath as she approached the house, Quinn gathered her resolve and headed inside and up the stairs. After a quick side trip to her bedroom to get rid of her backpack, Quinn approached the door to her sister's bedroom.

"Hey, how about asking them this," Quinn heard Tom's voice drift out of the open door, bringing her to a stop. "If Verona had had metal detectors, would Mercutio be alive today?"

"If he were, he'd be about four hundred years old," Daria responded, sounding very tired.

"That's why they'll all get it wrong! Trick question, yeah!"

__

Trick questions?! Oh god, I'm doomed! Quinn thought, her resolve slowly turning into fright.

"Gee, I wonder why no one's ever asked _you _to teach a class," Daria said as Quinn charged ahead before her nerve failed her.

Tom was sitting on the floor, and Daria in her desk chair, and both of them looked up when Quinn came into the room. Tom's eyebrow went up slightly, while Daria remained impassive, like she always did, though she was looking like she'd had a long day.

"Daria, you know that test tomorrow? It's going to be easy right?" Quinn asked, then everything came out at once. "Because if you make it really hard some popular people might take it out on another completely _innocent _popular person and besides it's good to help the popular because if you don't if might make you even _more _unpopular although I don't know if such a thing is possible."

"Ooo, wouldn't want to risk that," Daria said as she turned back to her computer.

"So you'll do it?" _Hey, this may be easier than I thought!_

"Yeah, right after I change into my fur bikini," Daria said dryly.

"Daria!" Quinn said disgustedly, seeing Tom's face light up. "God! Don't tell me that stuff! But you'll make the test easy?"

"You know, I didn't ask for this stupid teaching job," Daria sighed, turning back to face Quinn. "I don't need the work, I don't need the stigma, and God knows I don't need the stress. I've tried to make this class interesting and focus on the play, not the grades. And if, after all of that, the only thing that you're vapid friends can think of is how to finesse taking the test, than they _deserve_ to fail!"

"Daria, do you know what's going to happen?" Quinn asked. "Do you want everyone to hate you?"

"Quinn, why should you go out of your way to protect the stupid?" Daria asked. "_You're_ not one of them!"

"I . . . I . . ." Quinn stammered, then finally broke. "Daria, you don't understand! Sandi _knows _about you being pregnant! She's the one who started all these rumors going around in the first place! If this test isn't easy, then she told me she's going to make sure that _everyone _knows about it and she's just gong to make up all these nasty details about how you got that way as she goes along!"

"Gee, whatever will I do then?" Daria rolled her eyes.

"Um, Daria, maybe Quinn's right," Tom said. "Things are going to be tense enough as time goes on. If it keeps you from getting harassed at school about being pregnant for a little while, the maybe you ought to go easy on them."

"Tom, I lied about the fur bikini." Daria gave Tom a dry look and watched him deflate before turning back to Quinn. "And as far as Sandi Griffin is concerned, I can handle the likes of her quite nicely, thank you very much, so there's no need for you to worry you're pretty little head about it."

"But --"

"Now scram," Daria cut Quinn off. "I have to come up with this test and still do my own homework."

Not feeling reassured in the slightest, Quinn left the room and returned to her own bedroom. She grabbed her backpack and headed down stairs in order to put some distance between her and Daria for a while. She needed to concentrate on this stupid test, but she couldn't do it while she was worrying about what Sandi was gong to do.

When she got downstairs, she noticed that neither Helen nor Jake were home, so she went out the living room sliding doors and crossed the yard. She sat down with her back on the privacy fence between their house and the neighbors and dug out her copy of Romeo and Juliet, and tried to start reading. After a moment, she dug her pack of cigarettes out of her pack and pulled another one out.

__

Two in one night, Quinn thought as she put the cigarette between her lips and lit it. _Thanks a heap, Sandi. You're going to make me a real addict._

Quinn leaned back against the fence and tried to concentrate on her book. As she tried to read, she'd glance up from time to time at the doors of the house. The last thing that she needed was for her parents to catch her smoking around the house. They'd never understand. Daria didn't understand, either, when Quinn thought about it. She wasn't protecting the stupid, as Daria put it, she was trying to help her friends. And Sandi wasn't stupid, she was actually pretty smart about a lot of things. She was a wizard when it came to make-up and hair, and could put together some dynamite ensembles out of almost anything in a few minutes, whereas it would take Quinn hours of decision making. Of course, Sandi's color coordination and accessorizing wasn't all that great, and Quinn could do that in just a short time. And Sandi knew how to manipulate the boys in school almost as well as Quinn could to get what ever she wanted from whomever she wanted it from.

__

And she's popular, Quinn thought, forgetting Shakespeare and taking a drag on her cigarette. _God, is she popular. I can barely keep up!_

Daria was right about one thing, though: Quinn wasn't stupid. But then, neither was Stacy or Sandi of Tiffany. They just weren't focused. Well, that wasn't true, they were focused -- on their looks and image around school.

__

The only reason you're popular is your looks, and those won't last forever. You have nothing interesting to say and no intellectual curiosity whatsoever. Do the world a favor and don't go to college. Give up your spot to somebody who wants to learn. 

Quinn could have cried when her summer tutor, David, had told her that. She had been angry at him and hurt by what he had said. But he was right, and Quinn knew it.

__

I am curious. _I do want to learn. I don't want to just skate by on just my popularity and great looks. _Quinn thought as she looked back down at her book. _But I won't do any of that if I just sit out here and daydream._

She mashed the stub of the cigarette into the ground under the fence with her fingers and stood up and brushed off her pants. On walking back in through the glass doors, Quinn discovered that her father had come in at some time and had set up part of his model train in the middle of the living room floor. Quinn almost thought that she had been caught for a minute, but saw that her father was more interested in poking at the innards of the train's engine with a length of wire.

"Stupid smoke pellets get stuck so damn easy! Doesn't even look like real smoke!" Jake stopped and sniffed the air for a second. "Smells like it though."

__

Crap! Quinn thought as she tried to tiptoe by. _I am so busted!_

"Hey, Quinn!" Jake said looking up. "You got a hat pin?"

"A _what?"_ Quinn asked, stunned. _He thinks it's his train!_

"A hat pin?"

"Dad, I don't have time for your crazy jokes," Quinn said, dropping down on the sofa and setting her book on her lap. "I have to study for this stupid test Daria is making us take on Romeo and Juliet._"_

"Hey, I remember that play!" Jake said, setting up on his knees. "Let old Jakey help you with your studies, kitten."

Quinn just sighed. This was going to be big fun.

"Now, as I recall, Romeo meets Juliet by this big, bubbly cauldron," Jake said, rubbing his chin and trying to remember.

"No, Dad," Quinn said with a shake of her head. "She's at this big party he crashes with his friend Mercutio --"

"Oh, right! The little wooden boy!"

"_No_, Dad, he's Romeo's pal. But he gets stabbed to death by Tybalt," Quinn pointed out.

"Tybalt?" Jake searched his memory. "Who's Tybalt?"

"So Romeo kills Tybalt, and then Juliet's Dad says she has to marry Paris, so she pretends she's dead and --"

"Tybalt sounds like the name of a rock," Jake interrupted, still trying to think.

"And when Paris sees her . .. " Quinn started to continue, but stopped herself. The book on her lap was still closed. "Wait, I _know_ this stuff!" Quinn quickly grabbed her book and backpack and headed for the stairs. "Got to go! Thanks, Dad!"

__

Sandi, you might know how to build an outfit, Quinn thought as she headed up the stairs at a trot. _But you don't know jack about Romeo and Juliet!_

~~~~~~

Daria walked into the Language Arts classroom with the last of the students to arrive, namely the Fashion Club, and put her back pack on the teachers desk as everyone filed into their seats. In the back of the room, Sandi was giving Daria a look that said "I know something that you don't want anyone else to know." Quinn was also looking at Daria with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. Both those looks together just reconfirmed something that Daria had determined a long time ago: Sandi knew. Daria was about as prepared to handle that as she thought she could be, if it became necessary.

"All right, everyone," Daria said as she took a stack of papers out of her backpack. She split the stack into five portions and gave them to the first seat in each row. "Take one, pass the rest back. You know the drill."

After a few moments of grumbling students and the sound of fluttering papers, Daria made a circuit of the back of the room to collect the remaining tests.

"Uh . . ." Joey raised his hand as Daria returned to the front of the room.

"Yes, Jamie, Joey, or Jeffy?"

"Um, my test only has one question on it," Joey said, looking a little confused. This was it?

"Mine too," Jeffy said, looking up.

"That's right --' What is Romeo and Juliet about?' " Daria said as she walked back behind the desk. "Just write what you think and back it up. Two hundred words, minimum."

"An _essay _test?!" Sandi exclaimed from the back of the room.

"Two hundred words?" Stacy squeaked.

"Thiiinnnk?" Tiffany asked slowly.

When Quinn's expected protest didn't come, Daria looked up into the back corner of the room. She was already diving into her test and hadn't heard a word that the other three had said. Sandi, however, looked like she was ready to spit nails as she slowly began to write.

~~~~~~

A few doors away, Mack and Jodie were staring at their desks as Mrs. Stoller sat up in the front of the room and slowly graded the tests that she had collected. The test, as they had expected, had been ludicrously simple. Jane had definitely called that one that one correctly. Now, as they had for the last three days, they just waited and wasted time.

"Mack," Jodie whispered. She didn't worry about being heard by the substitute, who seemed to have a hard time hearing to begin with.

"Yeah?" Mack whispered back.

"I've been doing some thinking," Jodie said. "Daria said that Ms. Li had gotten her do to the Language Arts class, right?"

"Yeah," Mack replied.

"She never did say why, did she?"

"Not really. But from what I've been told, the Language Arts guy got hauled away in cuffs." Mack thought for a moment. "You're not saying that Daria had something to do with that, are you?"

"No, but it is Quinn's class, and their Mom is a lawyer," Jodie postulated.

"So, Quinn said something to her Mother, who got the sub busted, and Li decided to get back at Quinn and Daria's Mom by making Daria teach the class?" Mack cocked his head at Jodie.

"And considering that Daria's . . . well, anyway, she would have tried to get out of it because of the tension." Jodie narrowed her eyes as she thought.

"But Daria wouldn't have told Li she was . . .well. . ." Mack shrugged.

"But Stoller said that Li was talking to the school nurse about her a couple of days ago." Jodie nodded towards the front of the room. "That means that Li would have had to at least suspect. And Daria couldn't out and out deny it, because it would be obvious after a while."

"Yeah." Mack frowned as he thought for a moment. "Jodie, do you remember that cheerleader who left school during our freshman year?"

"You mean Carrie Landingham? The one Ms Li was always . . ." Jodie started, then stopped as she made the connection. "She was . . .? I always thought that she transferred to Oakwood."

"Yeah, _after _she had the you-know-what, and Li was on her like white on rice _before_," Mack said. "Always going on about the honor of Lawndale High and all that crap."

"So basically, Li harassed her until she left." Jodie sat up in her chair and looked at Mack. "She's going to do the same thing to Daria."

"That's a good bet." Mack nodded. "Lawndale High: High Security for High Performance."

"And no tolerance," Jodie shuddered. "We'll have to tell Daria about this."

~~~~~~

Daria had had an interesting hour, to say the least. It never failed to amaze her that the simple questions were the ones that brought out the most interesting answers. She had saved some of the more surprising answers for last, just so she could see their reactions close up.

"A 'B!' " Jeffy exclaimed as Daria handed him his test. "You mean you think Mercutio had a thing for Romeo too?"

"No, but you argued your point well," Daria replied with a slight smirk. "And I thought that your ideas for keeping him out of the locker room were original, if a little close minded."

Having saved Quinn and the rest of the Fashion Club's tests for last, Daria walked back to the corner of the room and returned their tests.

"A 'D-minus?' " Sandi said, sounding disgusted. She turned and glared at Quinn. "I should have known that Quinn would fail us."

Quinn glanced at Sandi and swallowed hard as Daria handed back her test paper.

"_I _should have failed you, too," Daria said as she handed Tiffany and Stacy their papers. "See, in Shakespeare's version, Romeo never goes by the name Leonardo, or takes a swim in his clothes. But, I gave you extra credit for realizing that the movie and the play were somehow connected."

Stacy looked at her paper as Daria walked back to the front of the room, then glanced over at Tiffany's grade. Both had 'D -' written on the top in red.

"I guess that we shouldn't have copied off of each other," she said, sounding depressed.

Sandi was still staring daggers at Daria's back as she was walking up the aisle when she realized that Quinn hadn't said any thing about her own grade. In fact, Sandi saw on looking over at the other girl, Quinn hadn't even looked at her paper. Sandi's hand shot out and snatched Quinn's test paper off of her desk.

"Hey!" Quinn yelped as she tried to grab her paper back.

"Gee, Quinn, what a surprise," Sandi sneered, holding the paper out of Quinn's reach. "You got a 'B-plus.' I guess having a certain _relationship_ with a certain _teacher_ really pays off."

"Sandi, I thought she was fairly easy on the grading, as long as you tried to think for yourself," Quinn said with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh, really?" Sandi handed Quinn her paper back and rolled her eyes snidely. "I guess everything just _relative._"

By this time, the conversation in the corner was attracting the attention of everyone in the room, Daria included. Everyone was taking the opportunity to watch the two most popular girls in school square off against each other in public.

__

Don't protect the stupid, Quinn. You're not one of them, Daria thought as she took her place behind the teacher's desk. _Not even for your sister._

"Sandi . . . " Quinn started, taking a deep breath to try and remain calm about the whole thing. "Ever since they asked this girl to take over the class from that creepy guy who wanted to fertilize Tiffany, it seems to me that all she's tried to do was make the best of a bad situation. Maybe we should cut her some slack."

"See? There she goes, taking sides again!" Sandi gestured with one hand between Quinn and the front of the room. "You know, you two are so much alike, you're almost like sisters." Sandi's expression turned into an evil smirk. "I wonder what _other secrets_ you two share."

"I am getting so sick of this," Quinn sighed, meeting Sandi's look with a defiant one of her own and a tone of voice to match. "I'm not taking anyone's side, Sandi. I'm just saying that sometimes people get put in rotten situations that they never intended to be in. Like a girl who has to wear huge braces in fifth grade, and years later her brothers find the pictures of her with them and give them to a friend, who hasn't shown them to anyone out of the goodness of her heart . . . _Yet."_

"Oh?" Sandi said with an eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Besides, why wouldn't I act sisterly towards her?" Quinn said as she looked up at Daria at the front of the room with a Mona Lisa smile before she turned back to Sandi. "After all, she _is_ my sister, and I'm proud of her. And despite the way I act towards her, sometimes she's a better friend than you are!"

"Oh ho! Did you hear that? So you admit that weird girl is your sister!" Sandi crowed triumphantly, sitting back and waiting for the reaction she was expecting.

"Uh, Sandi, we already knew that," Stacy said, looking over the back of her chair.

"Yeah, we were just being polite about it," Tiffany said as thought it were the most obvious thing in the world.

And that wasn't it.

Sandi shot Tiffany and Stacy a withering look. She had one more card to play, and she'd be damned if she was going to lose like this.

"Are you just as proud of the fact that your _sister_--" Sandi put as much venom into the word as she could "--went out and got herself _pregnant_ at some party and has _no idea _who the father is?"

The classroom erupted into surprised gasps and mumbles. Daria and Quinn looked at each other over the length of the room. Daria had a dry expression on her face like this wasn't anything that she hadn't been expecting, but Quinn looked mortified and angry at the same time. Both of them looked at Sandi, who was sitting there with a triumphant look on her face.

"The way I heard it, there were three or four guys involved," Sandi embellished. "Is that true, Quinn? Are you just as proud of her now, Quinn?"

Bedlam replaced the collective mumbles as the subject began to take on a life of it's own before it had even left the room.

"Sandi, you have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Quinn said over the noise.

Her expression changing not a whit, Daria reached into one of the inside pockets of her jacket and removed her coach's whistle. She'd only used it once or twice to get Kevin off of her locker and send him running to the football field. Taking a deep breath, she put the stainless steel device to her lips and cut loose an ear splitting blast. The room was completely silent in a second and a half.

"Okay, everyone, let's all just shut up for a minute," Daria said, replacing the whistle in her jacket. "Let me preemptively set the record straight on this right here. Yes, I am pregnant, and yes, I know exactly who the father is. That particular bit of information, however, is none of your business. I wasn't drunk, I wasn't high, and I didn't have a gun held to my head at the time."

"Oh, fine then," Sandi said, leaning back in her chair. "Well, how are we supposed to trust what you've been teaching us when you were _stupid_ enough to get pregnant in the first place?"

"Jeez, Sandi, just _what _is the big deal?" Stacy Rowe, of all people, said as she turned around in her chair.

"What's the big deal??" Sandi shot back at the mouse of the Fashion Club. "She's in high school and is going to have a baby! Don't you see anything wrong with that?"

"So? What's your point?" Stacy said calmly. "So was my Mom. She was seventeen when I was born."

"What?" Daria, Quinn, and Sandi said at the same time.

"People of Mars! I mean, students of Lawndale High!" Ms Li's voice crackled through the PA speaker, adding to the absurdity of the situation.

__

You were right the first time, Daria thought, blinking at the speaker.

"This is your leader -- uh, principal. . . What was I . . .? Oh, the teachers . . .the teachers . . . The strike's over! Your teachers will be back tomorrow! Good ni -- day!"

Daria could have sworn that she had heard a thud as the PA switched off. Looking over the classroom, she probably could have heard a pin drop if she wanted to test the theory.

"Um, Miss Darlene?" Jeffy said into the tension filled silence. "I think you were, um . . . You're a pretty good teacher. And, um . . .congratulations."

"Thank you, Jeffy," Daria said with a nod. "And for the record, some of you aren't half bad students." Daria looked across the room at Quinn and the Morgendorffer sisters exchanged Mona Lisa smiles. "You know who you are."

The school bell rang at that point, and the students responded with all the predictability of Pavlov's beloved dogs, gathering their books and tests and filing for the door. Most of them filed by the desk and said their goodbyes to "Miss Darlene," adding their own congratulations and if-you-need-anythings. There were a few of them that threw dirty looks her way, Sandi chief among them, as they walked out. Joey, Jeffy, and Jamie all offered whatever assistance that they could, but Daria suspected that they were doing it to impress Quinn. Stacy and Quinn were the last to leave the room, and both of them stopped at the door to talk with Daria.

"Congratulations, Daria," Stacy said, surprising her with a quick hug before she left. "If you ever need a babysitter . . ."

"Thanks," Daria said. "I know where to find you."

"Daria, I'm sorry," Quinn said, looking downcast. "If I had had any idea that Sandi was going to say something like that, I . . . well . . ."

"Don't worry about it. You can't spread a rumor about something that'll be common knowledge in a few hours anyway," Daria said. "Besides, don't you have one more class yet?"

"Yeah, History." Quinn looked up at Daria. "Where did Ms Li get that old lady from, anyway? She said I had a hippy name and keeps calling me Karen!"

~~~~~~

" . . . And after that, when we got out into the hall, there was Sandi, breathing fire and still making accusations, like it mattered any more," Daria said, finishing her story as she shifted in the passenger seat of Tom's rusty old Jag. "Quinn blew her off and took Stacy with her, and Tiffany just stood around looking blank."

"Like usual. I'd have never guessed about Stacy, though," Jane said, leaning over the back of the front seat. "So, just exactly when did Sandi find out? She couldn't have known about it any longer than we did, because things started cropping up about the time the Fashion Club did their news letter thing."

"I don't know, but I'll bet Quinn does. I'm going to ask her about it when we get home, but I've got a pretty good guess."

"You know, I really can't believe that your sister did that. It seems like it would be totally against her character," Tom said. "But, aren't you worried about Sandi, though? She could still cause some problems."

"How? Sandi Griffin is a petty dictator with no real power base in the school," Daria said as she turned to look out the window and watch the neighborhood go by. "I totally ruined any possibility that she had to humiliate me in public, and Stacy took the rest of the wind out of her sails. About all she can do right now is make noise, and that I can just ignore."

"What about what Jodie told you about Ms. Li?" Tom asked.

"That I'll have to wait and see on. If Jodie's right, then I'll turn the whole thing over to Mom and let her deal with it. If she's wrong, then no big deal." Daria shrugged.

"So, what are you going to do now that your teaching day are over, Miss Darlene?" Jane asked with a smirk as they turned the corner on to Glen Oaks Lane. "Disney World?"

"More like my nice quiet, padded bedroom for a decent night's sleep. I've had it." Daria looked up as her house came into view. "Looks like this is my stop."

"Hey, call me later, okay?" Jane said as Tom pulled to a stop next to the mailbox.

"You got it," Daria said as she opened the door. "Later."

"Bye," Tom said as he leaned over and kissed Daria on the cheek.

"Eww! Gross! Cooties, cooties!" Jane flinched and hid behind the seat.

"I'll call you later," Daria said, rolling her eyes as she left the car and closed the door.

Tom pulled off after watching Daria walk up the sidewalk and enter the house. Jane climbed up off the back seat floor and stretched out on the back seat of the old luxury car.

" 'ome, James," she said in affected accent and a whimsical wave of her hand.

"The home for the mentally unbalanced, maybe," Tom said as he pulled back out into the street.

"That's right, you never met my other brother or sisters, have you?" Jane said. "Trust me. When my whole family gets together, it makes the last three or four days look easy."

~~~~~~

"It's quite a web site when Civil War buffs get _in_ the buff! 'www-dot-gettysbare,' next on _Sick, Sad World!_"

Daria turned off her television and tossed the remote on the bed beside her. That was just getting too weird. But it was no weirder that some of the things that had happened today. She hated to admit it, but she had definitely enjoyed taking the wind out of Sandi's sails. She pulled her leg up and began to unlace her boot when Quinn walked in the room.

"I already told you, I'm not signing a National Rayon Day petition," Daria said without looking up.

"You know that grade you gave me?" Quinn asked. "Sandi said I only got it because you're always at my house. Is that true?"

"Always at 'your house?' " Daria looked at Quinn quizzically.

"That's the way she said it." Quinn shrugged.

"Let me pose you a question, Grasshopper," Daria said, going back to unlacing her boot. "If I gave you a grade that you didn't earn, that would be acting nice. Could I face myself if I were _ever_ nice to you?"

"Really? I thought so," Quinn said as she sat down beside her sister on the bed. "Don't think that I could ever be nice to you, either."

"Something I'm fully aware of," Daria said as she pulled off the boot she was unlacing and put it on the floor.

"My social status is going to be totally shot, you know," Quinn sighed. "Sandi's going to do everything she can to make me about as popular as those geeks in the Chess club."

"Why does your popularity have to hinge on what Sandi does?" Daria asked, pulling up her other leg.

"She's the most popular girl in school. I'll have to apologize to her sooner or later if I want to keep my spot in the Fashion Club."

"Why would you want to put yourself back under her thumb again?"

"What else am I supposed to do? It's too late in the year to join the pep squad," Quinn said.

"There's always the Math Club," Daria suggested with a smirk.

"Daria!" Quinn shuddered. "Ew!"

"Look, there is one thing I would like to know," Daria asked as she finished unlacing her boot. "It's obvious that Sandi knew about me for quite some time. I just want to know when she found out."

"Um, she overheard you and Jane and Aunt Amy talking in Pizza King. She called here right after she left the place and told me what she overheard." Quinn looked at the toes of her shoes. "I told her to keep quiet about it until I could find out if it was true or not, because I couldn't come right out and ask you. She just started talking about it and using it as another bargaining chip."

"I figured as much," Daria said. "I always thought she had to have found out about it before I officially told Mom and Dad. I suppose I should have known better than to go somewhere like that."

"I still wish I could have kept her quiet," Quinn said as she stood back up. "Well, I'm going to take off. I have a date, and Mom and Dad have agreed to extend my curfew by a whole half an hour.

"I feel your pain," Daria said as she pulled off her boot.

"Well, good night," Quinn said as she started out of the room.

"Good night . . . Sis."

Quinn's date never did figure out why she was smiling all that evening.

~~~~~~

Amy slowly walked into the kitchen of the Morgendorffer house and put her laptop computer down in the kitchen table. She had had to walk Kay Sloane through the steps that she had taken in examining the reproduction painting, a process that hadn't quite taken as long as she thought it would have, but it still took a while. Then there was the inevitable questions over the pieces that she had already examined and the pieces yet to be checked. It was part of the job, and Amy was used to it, even though it meant that her job was going to take that much longer.

Amy plugged her laptop computer's power cord in to the wall and turned to raid the refrigerator before she started on copying her notes. She saw that there was a message waiting on the cordless phone's answering machine. Most everyone who knew she was out of town had her cell phone number, but she had left Helen's with a couple of people if there was some kind of an emergency.

"Knowing my luck, my apartment burnt down," Amy said to herself as she reached out and hit the play button on the deck. "But, then again there's all the rent money I'd be saving."

"Mrs. Morgendorffer, this is Angier Sloane at Grace, Sloane, and Page Investments," a man's voice said. "This is my third attempt to reach you regarding this ridiculous child support case you seem intent on throwing at my family. Contact me and we can settle this in five minutes. You obviously have my number."

Amy looked slightly wide eyed at the answering machine with a cold feeling in her stomach. She took a couple of steps backwards and sat down in Helen's chair at the table and stared at the machine for a moment.

__

Not possible, Amy thought, turning her back on the machine and leaning her elbows on the table. Her fingers interlaced in front of her fact, she gazed off into space over her knuckles. _It's just not possible. . ._

The voice sounded older than the one she remembered form more than twenty years ago. She hadn't heard a word from him since that night and had done her damnedest to try and leave that part of her life in the past.

__

What the hell do you mean you're pregnant?! _How do you even know?_

The doctor told me just yesterday, that's how I know!

I just finished my first year! The absolute last _thing I need is a rug rat screwing things up right now!_

The last thing that you need? What about me, what am I supposed to do? I can't raise a baby on my own!

Not my problem, sweets. You should have thought of that earlier.

Angie, wait! Dammit, come back here!!

Amy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Okay, Angier wasn't the most common of names, but there were Sloanes all over the place in this part of the country who spelled their name's a couple of different ways. It wasn't necessarily the one she remembered. It couldn't be.

__

The one thing I don't understand is how a smart young woman like you could do something so . . . so irresponsibly stupid!

Mom, at least let my try to explain!

You're damned right you'll explain, young lady, now get in the car. As far as I'm concerned, you deserve what you get for this . . . idiocy.

A tear escaped form under Amy's eyelid and trailed down her cheek. She'd been forced to explain it all in the car on that trip to the hospital that night. Between her mother's contemptuous remarks, her father's silence during the trip, and the twisting pains in her abdomen, Amy had told all but the name of the man. The Barksdales didn't sully the good names of others with things like this, they just dealt with it and locked it away.

But things like this never stayed locked away forever.

"The boy stood on the burning deck, his feet were full of blisters," Amy whispered unsteadily into the empty kitchen, trying to purge her mind and calm herself. "He tore his pants on a rusty nail, so now he wears his sister's.

"The boy stood on the burning deck, his feet were full of blisters. He tore his pants on a rusty nail, so now he wears his sister's.

"The boy stood on the burning deck, his feet were full of blisters . . .

to be continued . . .

**__**

Author's Notes:

First and foremost, I need to thank my Beta Readers: Angelinhel, Steven Galloway, The Crusading Saint, Scarlett, and Tananda. I also want to offer a Special Thanks to Galen Hardesty for Amy's memory blocking trick, which I shamelessly stole form "The Whole Truth," the sequel to "Diary Dearest," by Renfield

Another Special Thank You has to go out to The Baby Center (www.babycenter.com) which has been my major source of research material for this little series. While this is a great site and an excellent place to start, one should always talk to someone knowledgeable in the field, like an OB/GYN, for instance. I know I said that at the beginning all of these stories, but that doesn't make it any less important.

I guess there isn't all that much more to say at the end of this one. I hope that everyone enjoys this little, ever continuing saga. Please feel free to email me at Greystar@hotmail.com with any questions or comments that you might have. And, as always, I put out an open invitation for the artistically inclined to do fan art based on my any of my stories.

Thank you.


	6. Hearts Burned

**__**

Synopsis: The collapse of the Lane gazebo is only the beginning. The Fashion Club is collapsing as well. Helen's career and Amy's emotional stability seem to be not too far behind. And what's with Trent?

**__**

Author's Forward: I am rating the following story PG-13 for content. The subject matter deals with teen pregnancy. I am not an advocate of teen pregnancy, and firmly believe that common sense should prevail in such cases. However, real life being what it is, this is not always the case.

The following story was written for entertainment purposes only, and _should not _be taken as educational material. I do not claim that the "technical" aspects of my story are even remotely accurate. If you have any questions, go to a responsible adult knowledgeable in the appropriate areas.

**__**

Other Notes: The author assumes that the reader is familiar with "Daria" and the characters therein, and has read my previous stories. This story is sixth in the series and takes place concurrent with the events portrayed in "Art Burn."

**__**

Legal Drek: Daria and her cohorts are property of MTV and Viacom.

This story is Copyright April 2, 2004.

Daria

in

Hearts Burned

__

Seventeen weeks, and I'm already starting to show, Daria Morgendorffer thought as she ran her hand over the front of her T-shirt. _I'm going to be a blimp._

Daria walked down the stairs as she pulled her jacket closed in front of her. Her abdomen had begun to distend as her baby grew within, making the fit of her jacket and skirt a little tight. She never had much reason to pay attention to her clothes, other than to make sure that they were properly cleaned and maintained. In another three or four weeks she would have to find maternity clothes.

__

Maybe Mom will have something that will fit, Daria thought as she zipped her jacket up over her stomach. It wasn't uncomfortably tight, but it definitely felt smaller than it had a few weeks ago._ How much longer am I going to be able to do this, I wonder?_

"Well, at least Quinn will be glad to see you," Daria said, placing her hands on her stomach. "She's been itching to change my wardrobe anyway. Now she'll have an excuse."

The jacket still managed to conceal her abdomen, even thought there was no real point in it now. Sandi Griffin's backfired ploy to embarrass Daria and Quinn had forced Daria into revealing her pregnancy in front of the Junior Language Arts class. The whole thing had become common knowledge in a couple of days and, for about a week, Sandi had become an even bigger bitch than normal. Even after almost a month, Sandi still targeted Daria with dirty looks and the occasional insult.

Walking into the kitchen, Daria saw that her mother was at her usual place at the table, cup of coffee at her side and a variety of paperwork spread out in front of her. Daria hoped that it wasn't the child support thing, but knew in her gut that it was. Instead of turning around and walking out, she walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a box of sugar tarts. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled out the box of Oaty O's and a bowl as well. Glancing at her mother as she quietly prepared her breakfast, and mentally figured the odds on what Helen was working on. For the last few months, her work had centered mostly around a big case against a major motor company. However, ever since Daria's pregnancy had come to light, she had been splitting her time between that and figuring some way to wrangle child support out of the Sloanes, even though Tom was not, and had no intention of, fighting it. In fact, Tom had been going out of his way to make himself available whenever Daria needed him and had offered what savings he had access to for Daria's medical expenses.

Helen didn't look up when the kitchen telephone rang, automatically pulling her cell phone out of her suit pocket.

"Hellooo?" Helen said blankly, just as the telephone on the counter behind her rang again. Helen looked blankly at her cell for a moment, then noticed that Daria was standing there. Her ears started to turn red as she turned and picked up the cordless off its deck. "Hellooo? . . . Yes, Jane, she's right here."

Hearing Jane's name, Daria was already part way across the kitchen when Helen held out the phone to her.

"Um, Daria . . ." Helen started to say.

"Don't worry, I didn't see a thing," Daria said as she took the phone from Helen and went back to preparing her morning meal. "Hey, Jane."

"Hey, you think you can slip your leash and come over after school?" Jane said. "Trent thinks that it'll help the band's prospects if they shoot a video."

"Don't they have to have prospects that need help first?" Daria asked as she opened the refrigerator door and took out the skim milk.

"Ordinarily I'd agree with you, but I think they're serious. They spent all of yesterday scouting around town for good locations, and today they're going to be checking out the few that they all managed to agree on. Trent even got up before noon."

"Wow. Sounds serious, all right," Daria said as she poured the milk on her cereal. "I don't know if I ought to be carrying around stage lighting, though."

"They just need someone to carry a boom box, and maybe a guitar or two, and I'll shoot the video. They recorded the song that they want to do, Milli Vanilli style, then we'll patch it all together on my computer," Jane said.

"Ooo, big budget production."

"Tell me about it."

"How about I talk to the warden about it and let you know on the way to school, okay?" Daria asked.

"Sure," Daria heard the smile in Jane's voice. "If it's yes, I can let Trent know and he can pick us up after school and take us over to Casa Lane, that way you won't have to wait for Tom. The band wants to get a fog machine and use the gazebo in our backyard to shoot part of it this afternoon."

"I'll let Tom know about it," Daria said, closing the milk and waiting by the toaster.

"Your Dad still tailing you guys to school?"

"Not so much any more. Either that or he's getting better at it." The two sugar tarts popped out of the toaster as she spoke. "I have to go. Tom's going to be here in a little bit and I still have to eat."

"See ya in a little while, amiga," Jane said.

"Later," Daria said before she turned off the handset and put it on the counter.

"What was that about carrying around lighting, Daria?" Helen asked from the table as Daria collected her breakfast. "You know you shouldn't be doing a lot of physical labor."

"It's nothing like that," Daria said, sitting down in her regular spot. "They just need someone to turn the boom box on and off while Jane shoots Trent's band for an amateur music video."

"Well, I don't know if I like the idea of you hanging around with a band. They can get pretty excitable," Helen said, sounding cautious.

"Excitable? This is Mystic Spiral, not Def Leppard. They only way to excite them is with a straight dose of caffeine into their carotid arteries." Daria shoved a couple of spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth.

"Well, all right. But remember our deal, Daria," Helen said.

"Right, home by nine." Daria swallowed. "Thanks, Mom."

"Morning everyone," Aunt Amy said as she walked into the kitchen, her hair still damp from her shower.

"Morning, Aunt Amy. Sorry about breaking in on you earlier," Daria said, looking a little embarrassed. "Dad was in the master bathroom and there was no way I was going to make it downstairs in time."

"And the last thing that you wanted to do was vomit heroically down the steps?" Amy asked with a smirk while she went over to the cupboard and removed a coffee mug.

"What's so heroic about throwing up?" Daria scowled, looking down into her cereal and absently picking up one of the sugar tarts and breaking it in half. "Fighting fires is heroic. Catching criminals is heroic. Rescuing damsels tied to the railroad tracks by evil robber barons is heroic. How many action movies are out there where the so-called hero gets the girl by puking?"

"Depends on the size of the bomb he's defusing," Amy replied as she poured some coffee and Daria took a bite of the tart. "If it's anything in the multi-megaton range, and I don't think people are going to argue too much."

Helen looked her daughter over for a moment as she continued to eat, her cautiousness returning. "I thought that I heard something up there earlier. What happened?"

"Daria just caught me in the shower, is all. No big deal," Amy said as she took Quinn's traditional seat.

"Are you all right?" Helen looked at Daria, plainly worried.

"Just my morning sickness coming back, Mom. Why do you think I'm so hungry?"

"I would have thought you would have been past that stage," Helen sat upright in her chair. "I mean it's been almost a week."

"No such luck," Daria grumbled. "Dr. Nelson said I could go through this all through my pregnancy."

"Maybe you should talk to Dr. Nelson again," Helen suggested.

"I did when I went for my monthly appointment last week. She changed my prenatals, but it doesn't seem to be doing any good."

"Well, I do seem to recall a rather long stretch of it when I was pregnant with you, Daria," Helen said, frowning in thought. "Though not so much with Quinn."

"Figures. She saved it so she could make _me _nauseous all through grade school," Daria said around a mouthful of sugar tart and cereal.

"Daria," Helen warned as the doorbell went off.

"That's Tom," Daria said as she got up and started to leave the kitchen. She stopped and turned towards Helen. "Uh, Mom, about Dad . . ."

"Don't worry, dear," Helen said, patting one pocket of her suit jacket. "I've got both sets of keys right here."

"Good," Daria said as she resumed walking. "He almost caused an accident when he ran a red light a couple of days ago."

Amy shook her head as she took Quinn's seat at the table. The past couple of months had definitely been an adventure. After finding out that Daria had become pregnant , Amy had finagled some freelance art appraisal work in Lawndale so that she could be nearby to help. Living alone had made her skills at living in a family unit a little rusty. There had been a couple of traffic jams at the bathroom, and Amy supposed that it was just bad luck that she had been the one that Jake had caught in a towel after Daria had left the bathroom. It was actually kind of funny in a way.

What wasn't funny was the telephone message meant for Helen that she unintentionally intercepted last month. Thankfully, no one else had been around at the time to see her break down after hearing it. Amy could have sworn that voice had come out of a nightmarish chapter of her past that she had been trying to put behind her for good. Once she calmed down, she had thought a little more logically about it. A distorted voice on an answering machine could be anyone. Just because it was a man's voice didn't mean anything.

__

You freaked yourself out for nothing, Barksdale, Amy told herself. _It's been too many years, and this thing with Daria is stirring up old ghosts._

"Helen, have you seen my car keys?" Jake asked as he walked into the kitchen. When he saw Amy, he turned slightly red as she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh. Morning, Amy."

"Jake, we talked about this four times," Helen said as she held up a set of keys from her thumb and forefinger. "You have got to quit following Tom and Daria around like some kind of rabid hound! Tom's trying to help Daria, and heaven knows he's being more reasonable about this whole thing than his parents are. You, however, have been acting like a child from the day we found out."

"Helen, I tried to explain it to you before! I just want to make sure our little girl is safe!" Jake said petulantly.

"By running a stop signal while you were following them to school?" Helen glared. "Jake, I swear . . ."

"All right, all right," Jake groused as he walked over to the coffee maker, got himself a mug and poured. "I'll . . ._try_ and trust him."

"That's better," Helen said, placing the keys on the table. Jake just glared out the window over the kitchen sink, unable to look at Helen.

"And on that happy note, I have to head off to the museum," Amy said as she stood up and finished off the last of her coffee.

"How much longer?" Helen asked.

"Oh, another three weeks or so, and then I'll have more time to hang out around here and lean on my sister's last nerve." Amy smirked as she walked over to the dishwasher and deposited her cup inside. She looked at Jake, who couldn't quite look back at her.

"Oh, and uh . . . " Amy said, her smirk turning evil as she timed her words carefully as Jake took another drink. "There's another show tonight at about ten, if you're interested."

**__**

"PTFFT!!" Jake launched his coffee at the window and burst out coughing.

"Amy!" Helen exclaimed. "Jake, what happened?"

"Well, it is partially my fault, I suppose, I probably should have locked the door," Amy said with faux innocence as she sashayed out. "But some people _should _knock before going into a closed bathroom in a house full of women." _Putz._

Helen impaled her husband on a sub-zero glare as she stood up and slowly walked over to where he stood. Jake looked up and winced at the expression on Helen's face.

"Jake . . ." Helen growled slowly. "What did you do?"

"Heh," Jake muttered weakly. "It's really the craziest thing, honey. You see, I was out of deodorant, and . . ."

~~~~~~

As Trent stood in the Lane family gazebo, he gazed across the yard and tried to concentrate on the music blasting out of the stereo by Daria's feet. He tried to look serious and wanted to let the music take his mind wherever it wanted to go, only it wasn't going anywhere. Earlier, when the band was scouting locations for their video it had been easy to let the music give them ideas. It was more difficult now, for some reason. He turned his head slightly to see Daria and Jane as he tried to figure out what was bothering him. Daria didn't give any indication that she knew that he was looking at her. She just looked down and adjusted the bottom of her jacket, and Trent realized part of what it was that was eating at him.

The whole situation that Daria and Tom had suddenly found themselves in had taken Trent completely by surprise. Trent dealt with Tom on a one to one basis well enough when he was seeing Jane, figuring that there really wasn't much to worry about back then. True, Jane was a little impulsive, but she could definitely take care of herself. Besides, Trent saw the rift between Jane and Tom forming long before they did. Jane had begun to turn back to Daria and, sometimes with Tom tagging along, had begun spending more time with Daria again. Consequently, Tom and Daria began to get to know each other a little better while he and Jane grew steadily further apart.

When Jane told Trent about the breakup and that Tom was now seeing Daria, he didn't know what to feel. Over the couple of years that he had known Daria, Trent had liked her from had began thinking of Daria as another little sister. It was that feeling that had set him looking for Daria during the end of Jane and Tom's time together. Daria had reached out to him once before, at the beginning of Jane and Tom's relationship, too, but he and Daria were on totally different planets, and Trent knew it.

Trent shook his head slightly. Once, he'd said to her that he'd take Daria out if she had been a few years older. Maybe if _both_ of them had been a few years older, thing might have been different. There was no sense worrying about that now, though.

__

Water under the bridge, man. Concentrate on making the video, Trent thought, glancing at Max. "Max, can't you look any more existential?"

"Existential? I thought you said nihilistic," Max complained. He had no clue what either of the words meant in any case.

Trent just scowled. This video idea wasn't turning out the way he intended it to.

"I feel like I should be doing something," Jesse said from his place on the bench at the back of the gazebo. He stuck his arm in the and began waving frantically at Jane, who was holding the video camera. Trent tried not to groan out loud.

"Shouldn't he have a sign that says 'hi mom'? " Daria asked from a few feet away.

"Uh, Jesse?" Jane called out, glancing from behind the video camera she held. "Why don't you, um, cue the fog machine?"

"Cool," Jesse said, reaching over the back railing and hitting the switch on top of a machine about the size of a small canister vacuum cleaner.

Almost immediately, the little machine began pumping out a great cloud of grayish fog around the base of the structure. Trent didn't think much of it until he actually got a whiff of what smelled like burned wiring. It had smelled a little like that when they had tested out in the basement that morning, so he didn't pay it any mind -- but when the little machine made a sound somewhere between a bark and a cough, all of them jumped.

Nick leaned over the back railing to look at the fog machine as it started to cough and rattle. Black smoke began to mix with the grayish fog as Nick looked back with a panicked expression on his face.

"It's gonna blow!" he shouted as he turned and made for the steps.

Nick was known to exaggerate from time to time, but the large amount of smoke mixed with what little fog there was prompted the rest of the band to follow at a mad scramble. After running a few yards, the band members stopped and turned to watch as the fog machine made a sound like a lawn mower running over a pipe wrench. For a moment, the machine went silent and the smoke and fog stopped filling the air, and Trent thought that they could go back to making their video.

That was when the fog machine exploded.

Everybody except Jane and Daria ducked as bits of plastic casing, motor, and other components were thrown about the back yard.

"Wow!" Daria said as the echo of the blast faded. "Real life drama."

"Yep," Jane said with a smile as she lowered her camera, patting its side affectionately. "And I got every second of it!"

__

Creeaakk!!

Everyone in the yard turned and watched as two of the gazebo's pillars bent inwards and a third fell away completely. A half a second later, the roof came crashing straight down, raising another cloud of dirt, dust, and dislodged shingles.

"Crap!" Jane said emphatically as the dust settled around the rubble. Her camera had been pointing the wrong direction and was turned off to boot. Nick, Max, and Jesse walked in front of her on their way out of the yard.

"Hey, come on back!" Jane called out. "Now it'll have this whole post-apocalyptic Waterworld feel! Gills for everyone!"

"We just stared the reaper in the face, and you want us to keep working?!" Max asked with a shaking voice.

"Yeah," Jesse said, backing up the drummer. "We're, like, traumatized."

The three other band members disappeared around the corner of the house just as Tom came from the same direction at a fast trot.

"Sorry, Janey, we're gonna need to take a few weeks off," Trent said, looking at the wreck.

"A few weeks off from what?" Jane glowered as Tom came up to them. "Hey, Tom."

"I thought I heard a crash of some kind when I pulled up," Tom said as he came to a halt next to Daria and the Lane siblings. Then he spotted the wreckage of the gazebo. "Whoa! What happened?"

"Come on inside," Jane said as she turned and headed towards the back door. "We'll tell you all about it."

Trent glared at the back of Tom's head for a couple of seconds, then followed along behind.

~~~~~~

Amy expertly wheeled her little red Triumph Spitfire into her parking space behind the museum. After almost a month and a half of working there, she had kind of gotten used to the place. It hadn't taken her very long to be able to pick out certain people's vehicles in the parking lot. Right off she had spotted a beat up hatchback that belonged to a security guard that had a bit of a wandering eye. She had pulled into a space next to Mils's grayish silver Volvo, which looked to be no less than twelve years old.

After getting out of her car and walking a ways, she spotted the luxury sedan that Kay Sloane usually drove. Amy shook her head as she passed it, trying to figure out why she had jumped to such a silly conclusion to begin with. There was no way that the guy she had heard on Helen's answering machine was the same guy from her past, no way.

__

Sloanes were a dime a dozen around this part of the country. One of them was bound to be named Angier sooner or later. Amy thought. _And a telephone speaker wasn't the clearest piece of audio equipment in the world, either._

Amy strode into the museum and tried to ignore the logical part of her brain that was telling her how thin an excuse that was.

"Why Amy, good morning!" Kay Sloane's voice came from up the hallway.

__

Crap! Not who I wanted to see! Amy thought as her current boss approached the door to her workroom. "Good morning Mrs. Sloane, how are you doing?"

"Quite well, thanks," Kay smiled back. "You should be just about to the end of this little project of ours, hmm?"

"Just about. Maybe another three weeks, what with one thing or another," Amy said as her mind once again began to churn on the subject of Kay's surname. "Hopefully we won't run into another big snafu like with the painting."

"Yes, what a mess that was," Kay agreed with a nod. "Say, do you have any plans for a few days from now, say around next Wednesday?"

"Not that I know of off hand. Why do you ask?"

"Well, we're planning a little brunch to show off part of the new collection," Kay explained. "Since you're instrumental in authenticating everything in the collection, the board thought it only fitting that you be there to receive your share of the glory."

"Well, I ought to be able to attend for a little while," Amy said, not really wanting to go at all. She figured she could minimize her time there, all the same. "I still have part of a warehouse full of stuff to go through, after all."

"Oh, I don't think a couple of hours will hurt anything." Kay started to head off in the direction of her office. "Besides, I've been dying for an opportunity to introduce you and Angie."

"Angie?" Amy asked with a slight waver in her voice that, thankfully, Kay missed. "That's the girl who's picture is on your desk? That's your daughter, right?"

"My daughter's name is Elsie," Kay said over her shoulder as she rounded a corner. "Angie's my husband. It's short for Angier. See you then."

"Oh . . ." Amy's throat nearly closed up for a moment. She swallowed hard and tried to keep speaking, but it barely came out as a whisper. "Sounds like fun . . . Can't wait."

Amy slid the door to the workroom open with a shaking hand and slowly walked into the room. Sliding the door shut behind her, she leaned on the door frame for a few moments and tried to control her ragged breathing.

__

Steady, Amy. It's not him. It's not him. Amy squeezed her eyes shut tightly and took a deep breath. _It's not him. The boy stood on the burning deck his feet . . .his feet were full of . . . Dammit, what if it _is_ him? Part of my life gets ripped away from me and now I have to face one of the people responsible for it twenty odd years after the fact?_

A tear slipped from the corner of Amy's eye and made it part way down her cheek before she angrily wiped it away.

~~~~~~

Quinn adjusted the hang of her dress around her thighs one last time as she checked herself out in her home made three-way mirror setup. Basic black was always good and the one piece dress was perfect with the faux diamond studs that were seated in her earlobes. She'd have to remember to get them back to her mother before she realized Quinn had borrowed them.

Hearing a vehicle drive up, Quinn glanced out her bedroom windows at the street below. Taylor's black convertible almost blended in with the night around it. Never mind that his parents' ski house had been a time-share, that Mustang was _gorgeous!_

Turning from the window, she grabbed the small, matching purse off the bed and began collecting a few, last-minute items. Her wallet and house keys went in first, immediately followed by backup lipstick, blush, perfume, eye shadow and mascara, followed by a couple of feminine items. Her pack of cigarettes was sitting on the bed too, and she hesitated. Nobody knew she had started smoking a couple of months back, at least nobody that mattered much. Still, it wasn't something that she wanted to get back to her parents.

"Quinn?"

"Eep!" Quinn jumped as her mother knocked at the door and called her name, stuffing the cigarette pack into her bag as she turned toward the opening door. "Yeah, Mom?"

"That boy, Taylor, is here to pick you up," Helen said as she stepped into the room. "Now you remember what we talked about regarding your curfew?"

"Yeah, Mom, I remember. I'll be home by ten and I'll call if I'm going to be later than that." Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed. It had taken weeks of begging and negotiating with her mother to get her to agree to the later curfew. "How could I forget?"

"Quinn, really, I wish that you wouldn't take this so badly," Helen sighed. "We're only doing this because we worry about you and we want to protect you. We --" Helen looked a little closer at her daughter. "Quinn, aren't those my diamond earrings?"

"Um, yeah?" Quinn put her right hand to her ear self-consciously.

"Well," Helen cocked her eyebrow at Quinn and decided to relent. "Just don't lose them, all right?"

"All right, Mom. Don't worry," Quinn said. "You didn't leave Taylor alone down there did you?"

"Don't worry, your father's keeping him company," Helen said as they started out of the room.

"Oh no! Don't you remember what happened the last time?" Quinn groaned as she picked up her speed and passed her mother.

"But, he said he wouldn't -- Oh, what am I saying, of course he would!" Helen lengthened her own stride and followed on Quinn's heels.

"Our little Quinn's a_ very special_ girl. You know that, don't you, son?" Jake's voice was heard to say as the two ladies quickly descended the stairs.

They found that Jake had cornered Taylor against the back of one of the sofas and was between him and the door. Taylor, for his part, was weathering his exposure to Jake rather well.

"Yes, sir," the dark-haired boy said, with a polite nod. "He spotted Quinn and Helen descending the stairs. "Hi, Quinn! You look great!"

"Her mother and I wouldn't want anything to _happen_ to our little girl, now would we?" Jake asked the boy with a tone that spoke less of fatherly concern and more of the possible consequences involved.

"No sir, not a thing," Tayler said with a shake of his head.

"Now, just what, _exactly_, do you have planned for tonight?" Jake asked in a low voice.

"Jake, we've held these two up long enough, don't you think?" Helen said as she stepped off the stairs and walked over to her husband. She wrapped her arm around Jake's and gently pulled him back a pace. "Now, you know that Quinn has to be home at a certain time, right?"

"Muh-_oomm_!" Quinn said, grabbing Taylor by the arm and aiming him towards the door. "C'mon, we're going to be late for dinner!"

"It's okay, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Taylor said as he was led out. "I have an eleven o'clock curfew myself."

__

"Eleven! But you said -- Never mind. Bye Mom! Bye Dad!" Quinn said as she shut the door behind her. "You told me that you didn't have a curfew!"

"I don't," Taylor said as they walked down towards the car. "But by the way your Dad was acting, it's going to make them feel better if they think I do."

"Oh, I guess I hadn't thought about it like that," Quinn said thoughtfully.

"Besides, Skylar and Ronnie were telling me about the grilling that your old man had given them when they came to pick you up last week." Taylor chuckled as he pulled the passenger door open for Quinn. "I guess I just had to see for myself if what they were saying was true or not."

"What?" Quinn put her hand on the door and looked at Taylor with a little shock in her eyes. "What are they saying?"

"Relax, Quinn, it's nothing to worry about. They made it sound a lot worse than he actually was. Though I have to admit that, as much as they were carrying on, I was thinking that they were trying to scare me into canceling."

"Oh, thanks," Quinn said dryly as she slid into the passenger seat and Taylor pushed the door closed. "You wouldn't have, would you?"

"On a beautiful girl like you? Not hardly! They were just trying to bug me. That's all." Taylor shut Quinn's door, then walked around the car to the driver's side. After closing his door and pulling his shoulder belt on, he looked over and saw that Quinn wasn't reassured. "Relax. Everything's going to be fine. We're going to have fun, don't worry. I've got reservations at Governor's Park. It's going to be great!"

__

Easy for you to say, Quinn thought as Taylor started the car and pulled out into the street. _You don't have people saying that your Dad is some kind of nut who gives your dates the fifth degree. I've got to wonder what kind of stories are going around. They can't be doing my popularity any good, that's for sure, and Sandi's got to love that._

She glanced over at Taylor for a moment and smiled when he looked over. For a moment, she hoped that Governor's Park had a smoking section but decided that it would be all right if it didn't.

~~~~~~ 

Tom, Jane, and Daria stood in the kitchen of the Lane house, looking through the window at the wreck of the gazebo in the backyard as Jane finished her account of it's destruction. Trent paused in his digging through the refrigerator and looked at the three younger kids for a second. He felt bad enough that his idea of making a video had, literally, gone up in smoke a little while before. The fact that it had happened in front of Jane and Daria didn't help matters, but that Tom had shown up to witness its aftermath really bothered him on a certain level.

" . . . So then, the next thing we know, crash!" Jane concluded her tale. "The whole thing just collapses down on itself."

"Wow," Tom said, looking from the window to Jane. "Good thing no one got hurt."

"Yeah," Daria said. "I hope your parents appreciate deconstructionism, though."

"Ah, they won't even notice." Jane waved dismissively. "They're in Greenland doing the walrus tusk fertility fetish carving thing."

"The wha-?" Tom looked confused.

"Always keeping up with the Jonses," Daria quipped.

Tom was about to add to Daria's commentary when the sound of the front door opening interrupted them. Footsteps preceded the arrival of a tall, young man with long light hair and the angular features of the Lane men. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and a searching look on his face.

"Trent! Jane! You _are_ here!" Wind Lane dropped his backpack by the table and rushed across the kitchen. He first grabbed Trent, then Jane, up in quick hugs that got dubious looks in return. He was about to do the same to Daria, but pulled up short.

"Penny??" Wind asked in confusion, thinking his older sister couldn't have changed that much since he saw her last.

"My name is Oliver Twist, sir," Daria said flatly.

"Oh. And who are you?" Wind looked in askance at Tom.

"Jack Dawkins," Tom replied, exchanging a smirk wit Daria. "Pleased to meet you."

"Hunh?"

"Wind, what are you doing here?" Jane asked her oldest brother before he could be confused any further.

"Katie's locked in our kitchen taking some . . . um . . .private time, and our Life Consultant says I should respect that. But I'm hungry," Wind said, looking a little sheepish. He started to turn towards the refrigerator when he caught sight of the rubble in the back yard and rushed to the window. "Oh no!! What happened to the gazebo??"

"What gazebo?" Jane didn't miss a beat.

"That's where Mom and Dad took us to when we were born to decide our names!" Wind explained grievingly. "You've got to fix it!"

"He's kidding, right?" Tom whispered to Daria, who shrugged.

"Um, Wind?" Jane said as gently as she could. "I don't know how to break this to you, but I don't think Mommy and Daddy will be bringing home any new brothers or sisters."

"Mmm, bummer," Trent said. He just cocked his eyebrow at the dirty look Jane gave him.

"You don't get it! I couldn't stand to loose such an important part of my identity!" Wind started to sound even more upset. "Oh, what chance does love have in a world where even the Naming Gazebo falls to pieces?"

" 'Naming Gazebo?' " Daria asked. Jane just shrugged.

"Promise me you'll fix it!" Wind pleaded.

Jane looked at her overemotional sibling for a moment and shook her head. She had a pretty good idea that Katie's so-called 'private time' in their kitchen meant that she was in the process of drying out yet again. Wind always did pick basket cases to fall for, and he'd be emotional enough without having him going on about that stupid gazebo, too. That left the path of least resistance.

"Trent, how much money do you have?" Jane turned to the younger of her two brothers and waited for a response. When none came, she frowned. "Trent?"

"I have none, so I said nothing," Trent replied reasonably.

That was too much for Wind, who broke down crying at the prospect that the old structure was gone forever.

"You know, I have a little money," Tom spoke up, taking pity on the blubbering Lane. "Maybe I could --"

"No, you couldn't." Trent cut Tom off with a glare, then looked back at Jane, who arched an eyebrow at her brother. "Hey, what if you sold some of your paintings at that Art in the Park thing they're having?"

"Hmm . . . The harvest of my inner torment on display right next to the falafel cart," Jane said, pondering the thought. "I like that. But -- if I get the money, you have to handle all of the sludge work: calling contractors, getting bids, scheduling the job, everything."

"Uh . . ." Trent was a little taken aback. This was actually starting to sound like work, something he tried to avoid. "I don't know, Janey. The band and I are going to be pretty busy practicing these next couple of weeks and --"

__

"Trent," Jane said dangerously.

"Oh, yeah. We're traumatized." Trent got the message loud and clear. "Okay, I'm on it." He looked at his brother. "We'll get it fixed."

"Thank you," Wind gushed. "You don't know what this means to me! We can't lose such an important piece of our family traditions."

"And on that note, I believe Tom and I will make our exit," Daria said. "You're going to need to get your inventory together, and I have homework I need to finish."

"Come on by the park tomorrow and check it out," Jane said as her friends started to walk out of the kitchen.

"Wouldn't miss it," Tom replied as they left. "Later."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Daria stopped and took out a small manila envelope from her inside jacket pocket and handed it to Jane. "More ultrasound shots from my last trip to the doctor."

"Great!" Jane said as she took the envelope. "You didn't look this time either, did you?"

"Nope," Tom said, looking sidelong at Daria with one eyebrow raised.

"You guys are going to want to see these, I guarantee it." Jane smiled as she pocketed the envelope.

"Just what kind of agreement do you and Dr. Nelson have?" Daria asked.

"Well, now if I told you that, you wouldn't be surprised at the baby shower, now would you?" Jane smirked.

"You frighten me, sometimes," Daria sighed as she and Tom left the kitchen.

"Thank you so much, Janey," Wind practically gushed once the other two had left. "You don't know what this means, really!"

Jane looked after Tom and Daria, waiting until she was sure that they had left the house before saying anything.

"Don't mention it, Wind. Please." Jane turned and frowned at Trent. "Now, what's with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what's with the hostility at Tom a minute ago?" Jane put her hands on her hips. "You never used to be that mean to him before. What gives?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Janey," Trent said as he turned and started to leave the kitchen. "I need to find the phone book."

Jane stood there and said nothing as Trent left. This was not like Trent at all, and she was curious to know what was going on in his head. He'd always been pretty decent to Tom when he and Jane were going out, though Tom did have an interesting time dealing with Trent a time or two. Trent never had much to say about Tom and had never brought the subject up when he started going with Daria last summer.

__

But then, Trent's never really talked about much of anything, Jane thought. _I've got to wonder what's gotten under his skin about Tom._

"Hey, Jane, what's this red stuff?" Wind asked from over by the open refrigerator. "Raspberry sauce?"

__

We really gotta clean that fridge, Jane thought with a sigh.

~~~~~~

The next day, High Hills Park had been turned into a maze of booths and displays that covered almost half of the area. Artisans from all across the state had rolled into Lawndale for the day-long sales event. Wares of every type were on display -- paintings, carpets, and sculptures made from a dizzying variety of materials. Wood carvings, blown glass, assemblages of crystals, and wall hangings of hammered metal were set out for everyone to peruse and purchase. It seemed as if most of the population of Lawndale had turned out for the day, and the four members of the Fashion Club were no exception.

The four teenage fashion mavens threaded their way through the labyrinth of various booths, stopping occasionally to examine what was offered. Certain types of handmade jewelry were purported to be coming into vogue and, according to Sandi, the club had to maintain its standards by being on the cutting edge of what was in. Sandi, however, was 'quite disappointed' that the items they found for sale were created with little regard for compatibility with the current fashions.

"Well, that was a waste of our valuable time," Sandi said as the four girls continued their exploration of the displays. "Speaking of which, Kuh-winn, how did your date with Taylor go last night?"

"Oh, it went all right, I guess," Quinn sid with a sigh. "Dad was acting a little weird when he was talking to Taylor. It kind of made things a little uncomfortable afterwards. We just did dinner and called it a night."

"Gee, Quinn, that's too bad," Sandi said with faked disappointment. "I'm sorry that your father had to ruin your date _before_ it even started."

"I wouldn't exactly say that he ruined it, Sandi," Quinn responded dryly. "Dad's just been a little . . . I don't know, difficult these last few weeks."

"Weren't you telling me that he'd been getting worse than usual ever since he found out about Daria?" Stacy asked.

"Yeah, I know." Quinn said. _Actually, he's been that way ever since I can remember._

"Faugh," Sandi sneered. "You don't have to make such a big deal out of it, Stacy."

"Hunh?" Stacy and Tiffany exchanged a glance. "What do you mean, Sandi? I just said --"

"I know what you meant, though. That girl Daria probably had the whole thing planned from the beginning."

"What?" Quinn asked harshly, bringing the whole group to a halt. "Are you saying that Daria went and _deliberately_ got pregnant?"

"Well, she did it with that Tom guy, didn't she? It was probably the only way that she could keep him." Sandi jammed her hands on her hips. "Then she, like, did one of those brain things just to make _me_ look bad when she told everyone that day in Language Arts class."

"She diiid?" Tiffany drawled.

"No, Tiffany, she did _not_," Quinn corrected disgustedly. "Sandi, Daria did not deliberately get pregnant just so she could make you look dumb in Language Arts! You did _that _all by yourself."

"God, Quinn, keep up will you?" Sandi said angrily. "She got _knocked up_ so she could keep her guy! She just set me up in Language Arts because she could!"

"But . . . That doesn't make any sense," Tiffany said slowly, eyebrows lowered in thought.

"I'll say it doesn't," Quinn said, fixing Sandi with a glare.

"Well, if you're so sure my logic is faulty, maybe you don't think my fashion sense is worth anything either!" Sandi growled. "Maybe I should just find someone who appreciates my advice!"

Sandi stomped off back the way the four girls had just come, leaving the other three members of the Fashion Club in her wake. Two of them were looking after Sandi, confused over what had just happened, while the third was downright angry with who she had thought was one of her best friends.

"I don't get her. I mean I love her to death, but I just don't get her lately," Quinn said to the remaining two girls as she watched Sandi disappear into the crowd. "What is it with her that she has to be so mean about Daria all the time?"

"I don't know, Quinn," Stacy said with a shake of her head.

"Me either," Tiffany said.

"Maybe we should just keep walking, or something?" Stacy asked, looking between her two friends.

"Yeah, let's go," Quinn said as she turned and continued on. Stacy and Tiffany followed along after a second, and they walked in silence until a booth that offered caricature drawings caught Quinn's eye. "You know, Sandi would have looked really good in a caricature."

"I know, why don't _we_ get one done of all of us," Stacy suggested. "We probably could use some cheering up."

"Yeah, cheering up," Tiffany smiled slightly. "And it could show how, like, fun we are, too."

"Yeah, that's a good idea, Tiffany," Quinn smiled, turning to the bored looking artist who was sitting in the booth. "Could you, like, put 'Best Friends' on it?"

"What a lovely sentiment," the guy said as he flipped his pad to a fresh clean sheet of paper. "Please, take a seat."

"Big smiles, everybody," Quinn said as they sat, Stacy and Tiffany on either side of her.

~~~~~~

"Well, we are in the park, but I'm failing to see the art portion," Daria said as she, Tom, and Amy made their way through the busy expanse.

"Evidently you're not the only one," Amy said, glancing over her shoulder with a cocked eyebrow. "I think I just saw some woman pounding on a clamshell mouse with her purse."

"Where?" Daria glanced back in the direction Amy was looking. "Oh, that's just Ms Barch, science teacher and resident male hater."

"Then, who's that guy with her?"

"That's Mr. O'Neill, our Language Arts teacher. I'm not sure he qualifies, exactly. He's more of a poor man's Kathy Lee Gifford," Daria replied. "It's kind of a love / hate relationship. He loves, and she hates."

"They're an item?" Amy asked, looking back at her niece. "How -?"

"Don't ask. I'm still nauseous from this morning."

"Gotcha. Sorry," Amy said. "I'm going to go and do some looking around. Meet you back here in a little while?"

Tom looked at the stand that they had stopped at, which Amy was indicating as a meeting place.

"Clowns? Crying?" He said in mock confusion. "Why I've never heard of such a thing!"

"Maybe they're sad because they lost all their money to that poker game with the dogs," Daria theorized. 

"Yo! Art lovers!" Jane's voice suddenly cut through the air, causing all three of them to turn in the direction that hit had come from. At the end of the row of booths, Jane stood waving at the trio, backed by her collected art works, as well as a painting on an easel beside her.

"One of these things is not like the others," Daria said dryly.

__

No kidding, Amy thought as she saw the paintings behind Jane. "On second thought, I'll meet you at Jane's booth."

"Okay, see you later," Daria said as she and Tom headed over in Jane's direction.

__

God, I hope she sells something, Amy thought as she took a turn and headed off into the park.

"Hello, sell-out," Daria said when she arrived at Jane's booth.

"Wouldn't I have to _sell _something for that to be the case?" Jane said, returning Daria's smirk.

"What are you asking for these?" Tom asked, looking over the displayed works. There were a fair number that he didn't recognize. He figured that she had painted them after they had parted ways.

"Well, most of them are twenty-five bucks, except for the topsy-turvy van Gogh," Jane nodded to an inverted copy of the artist's _Starry Night_ painting on the easel that she was standing by. "That one's ten million."

At that point, a woman with her son walked up to the booth and looked over the displayed paintings. From her expression, Jane could tell that the mother didn't think too much of what she was looking at.

__

Her loss, Jane thought._ Those who can, do, and those who can't criticize those who can._

"Do you know you've hung this van Gogh copy upside down?" the mother asked when she spied the painting on the easel.

"No, I _painted _it upside down. I _hung _it right side up." Which she had. Half the work on that painting had been done in art class.

"Come on, honey," Mother said, obviously not amused and leading her kid away. "Let's go and find some pretty barn paintings."

__

Bitch, Jane thought at the woman's retreating back.

Moments later, Clare Defoe appeared out of the stream of passers-by and walked up to Jane.

"Jane, these works of yours are among the most inspired and original I've seen all day," Defoe said with genuine enthusiasm.

"Thanks," Jane said gratefully.

"Do you realize this van Gogh is upside down?" Defoe asked.

Jane rolled her eyes.

~~~~~~

Trent sat in the kitchen, tiredly flipping through the yellow pages of the third telephone book he had managed to scrounge up from the cluttered depths of the Lane household. He had spent most of the morning trying to find someone who would rebuild the wrecked structure in the back yard. Unfortunately, none of the listings he'd looked at had said anything about gazebos.

"_None_ of these numbers are gazebo numbers," Trent grumbled. _If I can't find someone to fix that thing, we're going to be in real trouble when Mom and Dad get back._

Trent looked at the cordless phone sitting on the table in front of him for a second, trying to figure out what to do. The way Wind had reacted, one would have thought that it was a real emergency. He picked up the phone as a thought struck him and, figuring 'what the heck,' dialed a three digits number with his thumb.

"Nine one one emergency," a male voice responded after one ring.

"Hello, paramedics? Do you fix gazeboes?" Trent asked, figuring he had nothing to lose.

"What?" the operator asked after a stunned second.

"Do you fix gazeboes?"

"Call a contractor, buddy, this number is for _real _emergencies," the operator said flatly before hanging up.

Trent looked at the now dead phone with a cocked eyebrow for a second, then hit the off button. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

__

Contractors . . . Oy, Trent thought tiredly. _That's what I get for getting up early. 'Course, it's not like I slept last night anyway._

Trent got up to make some coffee, shaking his head to try and clear away some of the cobwebs. Normally, Trent could sleep like an old log whatever was going on, but last night sleep just wouldn't come at all. The reason why was obvious -- Tom and Daria. But the fact that it was bothering him as much as it was served to confound him all the more.

Trent was so easy going that he could usually put up with pretty much anything. Max and Nick's spats during practice were easy enough to blow off, so they never bothered him at all. Max had his own family problems, and mandatory rehab to boot, and while Trent felt for him he had never lost sleep over it.

But Tom and Daria, well, he just couldn't see it.

Tom, he knew, came from a family that had more money than they knew what to do with, as far as Trent was concerned. People like that really got on Trent's bad side. Whenever they got bored with something, they just moved on when something more interesting came along. That was pretty much what Tom had done right before he and Jane had split up. Now, not only was he going out with Daria, Tom was responsible for getting her pregnant.

__

As long as she held his interest, he'd stick around and do the responsible thing, Trent reasoned as he set the coffee kettle on the stove. _But, sooner or later, something else would come along and take his attention away from where it ought to be._

Trent's expression turned darker as various scenarios played through his mind. He felt himself getting decidedly angry at the concept of Daria, fresh out of high school, left high and dry with a kid. At best, her life would have to be put on hold for a couple of years until the baby was old enough to be left with a sitter or nanny or whatever. The other side of that would be that Daria would be left to raise the kid on her own, which would be awfully hard on her, but not impossible. If that were to ever happen, Trent knew that he and Jane would do whatever they could for Daria and her baby, but it would not be the same thing. A kid needed a full-time father, and Trent only had to look at his own upbringing for proof enough of that.

__

That's not going to happen, Trent swore to himself. _No way. Not if I have anything to say about it. Not at all._

Trent walked back to the table and grabbed the first telephone directory that he had gone through. He still had a little bit before the water was hot enough, and he figured that he could use the time to go through part of the yellow pages again.

~~~~~~

The caricature artist put the finishing touches on the piece he was doing for the three members of the Fashion Club and, with a flourish, turned it around for them to see. All three of the gasped when they saw what the artist had come up with.

"Wow!" Stacy exclaimed, wide eyed.

"That's great!" Quinn put in.

"We look like those three girls from that movie," Tiffany drawled happily.

"Yeah, that one where they're always talking to that guy Charlie on the phone!" Quinn said as the three of them stood up. She presented the artist with payment for the work and took it from him. "This is great! Thanks!"

"But, who should get it?" Tiffany asked.

"Maybe we can each keep it a week and then pass it on to the next person," Stacy suggested.

"Hey! How about we take it down to Print's 'n' Stuff," Quinn suggested. "They make colored copies, and then we can all keep it!"

"Yeah! That's a great idea," Tiffany and Stacy agreed as the three of the set out on their mission.

The three chattering teens walked right past a solitary figure standing unobserved behind the canvas partition of a glass sculptor's booth. Sandi Griffin stood there and watched the three other members of the Fashion Club as their picture was completed. She couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, but it had finally happened -- Quinn had shut her out of the Fashion Club.

Stacy, Sandi, and Tiffany had done everything together for years, ever since Middle School. One of the teachers had even called them the three 'Mousekateers,' whatever that had meant. Then, not two weeks after high school started, Quinn show up with that geeky sister of hers and everything began to go down the tubes. The guys around school went after Quinn like bees went after the stuff they got out of the flowers. It used to be that Sandi had her choice of guys to date on the weekends in middle school, and she was looking forward to the same in high school, but now Quinn had first pick, leaving Sandi with the leftovers.

Sandi hated leftovers.

"When the going gets tough you _have_ to get tougher," her mom always said. It must have been true, because she had gone from an on-air reporter to the Director of Sales and Marketing at that television station where she worked in the time it took for Sandi to get through middle school. So Sandi had gotten tougher and held on to control of the Fashion Club as hard as she could, but it all began to slip through her fingers. It had all started after she had recovered from the enforced bed rest that her broken leg required, when she was forced to cede a point to Quinn and the rest of the group. Then there was that flop that the Fashion Club news letter had become. That had been Quinn's doing as well, Sandi felt, but like any good president she had stepped forward to hold up the high standard of the office.

After that, Sandi had been maneuvered into embarrassing herself in front of the Language Arts class. The Fashion Club had a higher social office to maintain, after all, and social outcasts like that Daria chick had to be kept in their place. Teachers were losers to begin with -- if they weren't, they'd have jobs where they could actually make some money -- and being promoted from one class of loser to another was beneath notice.

__

But Quinn and her sister had gotten together to publicly humiliate me, and that can't go unresponded to, Sandi thought darkly.

Looking up, Sandi saw Daria and that guy who got her knocked up standing at a booth a few dozen yards away. Sandi was about to turn and leave when she spotted a familiar girl in a tube top and flair cut jeans a couple of booths beyond Daria.

__

Brooke, Sandi identified the girl. Her botched surgery had been successfully fixed quite sometime back, and she had occasionally asked about openings in the Fashion Club. Sandi had kept telling her that there were none, but maybe there could be -- for a price.

Sandi looked from Brooke and back to Daria, then looked in the direction that the other F.C. members had gone. The seeds of a malicious little plan took root in Sandi's mind. This would take some careful thought and a little bit of planning, but it really wasn't any less than Daria or Quinn of them deserved.

Sandi set off in Brooke's direction, the phrase 'killing two birds with one stone' in the forefront of her mind.

~~~~~~

Tom and Daria watched as Defoe had left the booth after going over several more of Jane's works. It had taken a little prompting, but Defoe had finally remembered Jane working on the Starry Night painting a couple of times in class. A valid technique in art existed where images were inverted to facilitate their reproduction by other painters, and Defoe had mistaken that for what Jane was trying to do. After going over several more of Jane's works, Mrs. Defoe had left. No one else had come by the booth, and Tom was looking rather bored.

"Well, I guess we should head out," Daria said, giving in to the fact that there was nothing else happening in her friend's booth.

"Yeah. Have fun kids," Jane said, waving as Tom and Daria started to leave.

At that moment, Sandi passed the booth at a fast walk. She deliberately cut close to Daria and, in a badly disguised "accident," caught the older girl's shoulder and hip with considerable force. The impact knocked her into Tom, who was unprepared for the sudden collision himself, but he managed to keep his feet as well as assisting Daria in keeping her own. Her glasses were knocked askew as Tom caught her.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, preggo," Sandi sneered over her shoulder as she passed.

"_Hey!_" Tom shouted angrily as he helped Daria back to her feet. "What the hell was that for?"

"Daria! Are you all right?" Jane was immediately at Daria's side and lending her own hand to her friend's balance.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Daria said as she straightened her glasses with one hand. "God, I didn't think even Sandi could carry a grudge this long."

"Or this far," Jane agreed with a nod.

"What, she's still mad about what happened a few weeks ago?" Tom asked. "What the hell is with her?"

"Got me," Daria said, looking over at Jane, who was looking like she was about to go after Sandi with the intent to do a large amount of bodily harm. "Take it easy, Jane. If Sandi wants to behave like a belligerent idiot, that's her prerogative. It's kind of pathetic, really."

"Maybe. I still want to give her a 'prerogative,' right in the mouth." Jane shook her fist in Sandi's direction.

"You know, looking like you're threatening your customers isn't really a good way to attract potential sales," Tom said with a smirk.

"I suppose not." Jane had to chuckle at that. "Ah, it's no big deal. van Gogh hardly ever sold anything his entire life and it never bothered him. Well, except for that whole going-insane part. But he didn't have Sandi Griffin to deal with either."

"Hey, did you paint this?" asked a man in a rather expensive-looking jacket and turtleneck shirt as he came walking up to the booth. He was looking over the copy of _Starry Night _on the easel.

"I know, I know, it's upside down," Jane sighed tiredly. _I might as well flip the thing over and be done with it._

"Of course it's upside down," the fellow said. "Hanging a famous masterpiece upside down allows the viewer to see its beauty totally independent of its content. I love it."

"You do?" Tom had to ask, and immediately wished that he could take it back.

"Sure, and I know talent when I see it. I hire artists to recreate the works of the Old Masters for my gallery."

"Well, I'm asking ten million bucks but, since you're in the business, I'll let it go for fifty," Jane said with a smile.

"I've got a better idea," the man said as he walked up to stand next to Jane. "I'll take as many of these van Gogh copies as you can paint and I'll only take, say, sixty percent commission. Here's my card."

Jane took the offered business card and read the legend on it. "Your place is called 'Gary's Gallery?' "

" 'Larry's Louvre' was taken," Daria quipped, then glanced over her shoulder when she thought she heard someone coming up from behind. "Hi, Amy."

"What's going on?" Amy asked, watching Gary and Jane talk. She adjusted the sacks that held the few bits that she had actually purchased on her sojourn through the park.

"Looks like Jane might be getting a job," Tom said.

The three watched for a moment as Gary and Jane concluded their business arrangement with a handshake. Gary took the _Starry Night _copy with him, leaving Jane with a hundred dollars instead of fifty, saying even that was a bargain compared to what he might be able to get for her other works if they were as good.

"Hey, Amy," Jane greeted her Best Friend's aunt. "Looks like I finally have a way to pay for that new gazebo."

"Copying the Old Masters' stuff? Not a bad gig, when you can get it," Amy said, nodding. "Um, you did know that _Starry Night _copy was upside down, didn't you?"

"Oh . . . _nyah_," Jane stuck her tongue out at Amy and pushed the hundred dollar bill into her pocket. "Looks like you didn't do to badly for yourself either."

"Not too shabby. There's a booth on the other side of the park where this girl's got some dynamite pastels," Amy said as she reached into a bag and pulled out an eight by eight inch painting of an orchid to show Jane.

Amy couldn't understand why Jane started coughing when she saw it.

~~~~~~

"This kicks butt!" Jane said later that evening as she worked on one of her first pieces for Gary, a copy of van Gogh's _Sunflowers_. "I'm finally getting real money for my artwork!"

Daria lay on Jane's bed, reading a book like she normally did. Jane had been up since the middle of the morning, which was early for Jane, working on her first commission for her new job.

"You're not worried about becoming a hack?" Daria asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not as long as I'm only in it for the cash," Jane turned towards her friend. "Money. Money money. I love money. I'd shovel it down my throat if I could."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Of course, Daria. I'd chew it slowly and stop when I felt full." Jane smirked and selected a narrow brush from the easel's tray.

Daria rolled her eyes and looked back at her book, turning the page. Glancing over the top of the book, she spotted a clean white sheet covering the unmistakable corners of a fairly large canvas, tucked safely away in the corner of Jane's room between the wall and her dresser.

"Starting a new masterpiece?" Daria asked, nodding in the general direction of the covered painting.

"Yup," Jane said, glancing where Daria was looking. "I started if before the gazebo blew up, but I haven't really figured out what it's going to be yet."

"Can I take a peak?"

"Nope, work in progress and all that," Jane said as she squinted at her canvas and carefully touched up a bit of detail work. "Besides that, I want to keep it a surprise until the big unveiling."

"Ah," Daria said, figuring that she could get a look later. It normally wasn't like Jane to keep a work in progress under wraps. "Speaking of surprises, what was so disturbing about that flower picture that Amy showed you in the park?"

"Hunh?" Jane pulled her brush away from the painting as her hand spasmed slightly. "Oh, nothing. It's kind of stupid, really."

"And when has that stopped either of us?"

"Well, it's just that I think I've seen that picture before, and unfortunately I think I know the artist," Jane said, switching back to her broader brush. "It was last summer when I was at the art colony."

"Oh." Daria looked at her book for a moment. That really hadn't been a very good time for either of them, and Daria didn't want to bring up any freshly buried ghosts. 

"Yeah," Jane said, her own memories turning back to that summer. "Her name was Alison."

Daria frowned in thought for a second. "Was this the girl you said got fresh?"

"Uh . . . well, if you're insisting on historical accuracy, yes," Jane said, concentrating harder on the painting.

"You never did tell me about what happened out there."

"Yeah, I know. This isn't really the best time to do that, though. I've got to get this thing finished." Jane loaded up a new brush and set to work on the painting's background.

~~~~~~

"You mean it? There's a spot opening in the Fashion Club?" Brooke asked Sandi excitedly, looking about her bedroom. "No way! This is too cool!"

"Yes, it would seem that a certain position is no longer being handled satisfactorily, and a replacement is necessary," Sandi said as she walked to the bed to where Brooke sat. Getting her to come over to Sandi's house was easy enough. It just remained to be seen how badly she wanted the position.

"What do you mean? Which one?" Brooke asked. "I'll bet it's Stacy's, isn't it? She's so wishy-washy --"

"It's not Stacy's. Or Tiffany's." Sandi sat down on the bed and looked Brooke in the eye. "How would you like to be the next Vice President of the Fashion Club?"

"Quinn's position? Really?" Brooke looked like she was about to scream for joy, but pulled up short. "Wait, what did she do wrong?"

__

She stole my friends, that's what. Sandi frowned for a moment, then her expression softened as much as it ever did. "That is Fashion Club business and, as you're not part of the club yet, it is still classified."

"Oh."

"However, if you're willing to perform a small service, then, once the position opens, it is yours." Sandi smiled slightly.

"Service? Like what?" Brooke asked. "A makeover or something?"

"You've heard how Quinn admitted that that pregnant girl, Daria, is her sister, right?"

"Yeah, I heard about her," Brooke said. "Didn't she, like, get drunk at some party with two guys or something? Gross! I didn't even know geeks like her _had_ parties!"

"From what I hear from my own sources, there were, like, four guys involved," Sandi shuddered in mock disgust. It was her story, after all. "The details are quite disgusting."

"Four? I'm gonna be sick," Brooke groaned, suppressing a shudder of her own.

"Thanks to Quinn's constant yammering about it, I know that her mother is taking the family of this rich guy she's gotten her geeky little hands on to court for child support."

"Is he the dad?" Brooke asked.

"Obviously not! If he was, that Daria would have said so when she and her _sister_ embarrassed me in front of everyone." Sandi's expression grew very determined as she sat up straight on her bed. "It is the duty of the Fashion Club, in this case, to see to it that the truth comes out."

"So, why don't you just tell the guy what's going on?" Brooke asked.

"Unfortunately, it's not that simple," Sandi slouched theatrically. "This guy she's with is so whipped that he wouldn't recognize what kind of person she is if someone slapped him in the face and showed him a picture."

"She's into whips?" Brooke looked pale.

"Some people. Go figure." Sandi shrugged. "Anyway, her mom is a lawyer, and you know how lawyers are. They have to hear the same thing from two different people before they'll even believe half of what you tell them."

"So, what are you going to do? Talk to this Daria's lawyer mom?"

"Actually, Brooke dear, what _we_ need to do is get this information to this guy's mom," Sandi said with a cocked eyebrow and a slight curl of her upper lip. "Then, once they see what kind of a money grubbing little back stabber that Daria chick really is and how their son is being maliciously slandered, they can force them to drop the case."

"Yeah, slandered," Brooke said. "But, I don't understand. Why isn't Quinn doing this?" 

"Let's just say that there are times that family loyalty is woefully misplaced, and this is one of them," Sandi said, straightening up again. "Though our first loyalty as a member of the Fashion Club must be to the dress and deportment of ourselves and, secondarily, to those around us, there are times when, in heinous situations such as these, it falls to us to see that the truth comes out for what it is, or whatever. True, sometimes it is a hard thing to do, but accepting these duties is what sets the Fashion Club above those around us who would keep it to themselves."

"Oh, that's so true!" Brook almost sobbed. "The truth must come out! What do we have to do?"

"Brooke Wannamaker, you are truly Fashion Club material" Sandi smiled. "This is what we have to do . . ."

~~~~~~

Jane walked down the streets of Lawndale towards downtown. As much as she enjoyed painting, it felt good to get away from the old easel for a little while and clear her head, jokes about paint fumes notwithstanding. She had her nose buried so deeply in her copies for Gary she hadn't gotten any work done on the special piece that she had tucked in the corner of her room. Ordinarily, a smear of paint on the canvas and she was off, but this project she had taken quite some time to plan out. So far, all she had done was layout the elements on the canvas with hard artist's graphite.

That had been kind of bothering Jane since yesterday, when she and Daria had gone out for pizza. She had almost not expected Daria to accept, her preferences being so on again, off again ever since her pregnancy had gotten into full swing. Tomato sauce was still out, but her latest culinary interests were centered around ranch dressing for some reason, and Pizza King did have a couple of selections with white ranch sauce. Jane thought the grilled chicken was all right, but she could have really done without the pineapple.

__

Eww, what a way to ruin a pizza, Jane thought. Daria had eaten three slices of the stuff, including Jane's pineapple. _I know she's eating for a family now, but jeeze._

"It's not often I get treated to this kind of a feast," Daria said after they had started on their third round. "What's the occasion?"

"Well, now that my ship's come in, I figured why not spread the wealth around and help the little people? Even those eating enough for a third world country," Jane said, handing over the half a dozen bits of fruit that had come on her pizza.

"Hey, I'm eating for two now, remember?" Daria said around a mouthful as she spread the extra pineapple on her slice. "So how big of a ship? Or is it more if a dingy?"

"Large yacht, maybe." Jane had pulled her check out of her pocket at that point. "My first commission: two hundred dollars."

"Try to contain your exuberance," Daria said after she swallowed.

"You know, I did think it would be more exciting. Maybe if it was for my own work." Jane had looked at the check for a moment, then cheered up. "But, hey, it's not like I'm going to be painting copies forever."

"Just don't say you can quit any time," Daria said, taking another bite of her pizza.

__

Actually, I can _quit any time. That's the beauty of it all, _Jane thought as she replacing the check. "Your offspring going to be full soon? I have to hit the bank before it closes and cash this."

"Yeah, I suppose," Daria said, eying her pizza slice, and then looking over at Jane's. "Um, are you going to finish that?"

Jane shook her head at the memory. If all it took to get Daria back into pizza in her current state was a little ranch sauce, then she'd be a bottomless pit as time went on. Jane had barely been able to repress a chuckle as she handed over her pizza to her friend. She hadn't said a word when Daria wondered what was so funny.

__

If only you knew what I know, young grasshopper, Jane thought as she turned a corner and started to cross the street.

Gary's Gallery was in the middle of the next block. He had left a message that afternoon, asking her to come over to the shop when she got out of school. Gary had mentioned earlier that sometimes his customers would have a request for a specific painting or other piece of work once in a while. If that was the case, she hoped that it was something van Gogh did. He was one of her very favorite artists and she really enjoyed reproducing his work.

__

Well, we'll find out, Jane thought as she pushed the door to the shop open.

On the opposite end of the room, Gary sat behind a counter, framed in a copy of Georges Seurat's _A Sunday on La Grande Jatte _on the wall behind him. He looked up as the small brass bell gently rang over Jane's head. The shop was an 'A to Z' display of artists and artworks, with sculptures and stacks of paintings lining the walls. Classic works and modern art hung side by side as a few customers perused the inventory.

"Jane Lane!" Gary said as she crossed the store. "Your _Sunflowers _sold this morning, which means I've got something for you."

Gary picked something off a stack of computer printouts as Jane walked up to his desk and held it out to her as he stood. She took the commission check form him and looked it over.

"Three hundred and fifty! Wow!" Jane would have to figure out what the painting really sold for when she got home and could find a calculator. "Okay, I quit."

"Quit??" Gary looked shocked. "You can't quit Gary's Gallery!"

"No, that's the Mafia," Jane frowned. It was supposed to be easier than this. "Sorry, but this pays off the workmen at my house _and_ my Girl Scout cookie debt."

"I can't just let you go! You're the best artist I have!"

"Thanks, but I don't feel much like an artist unless I'm working on my _own _stuff," Jane explained, thinking of the canvas sitting on the floor in her room.

"I understand that, but paints and canvases are expensive, you know," Gary pointed out. "Build your nest egg now, while you have the chance. Then you can afford to work on your Jane Lane Originals."

"Money's _not _the issue here --"

"I'll increase your cut to sixty percent," Gary said without missing a beat.

"Money _is_ the issue here."

"And if you're that bored, you don't have to do van Goghs any more. Any artist you like." Gary looked at her earnestly. "What do you say?"

__

Daria was right, Jane thought. _Damned mafia._

~~~~~~

"But how can they? I've answered every motion that those people have put forward!" Maryanne winced, trying to type at her desk, as Helen practically yelled into her telephone. "I know the burden of proof is on the plaintiff, but this is ridiculous -- we've met the burden twice over!" Helen paced to the end of her receiver cord before walking back to her chair and dropping down into it. "A _paternity test_? But he already freely admits that the child is his! How can they not believe their own _son_??"

The sound of someone clearing his throat made Maryanne turn around. Eric Schrecter stood in the door, watching Helen as she spoke on the phone. It was obvious that Helen hadn't noticed him yet.

"What do you mean they have evidence to the contrary?" Helen exclaimed with a shocked look. "How the hell could they?"

"Helen," Maryanne whispered urgently, finally getting her boss's attention and nodding in Eric's direction.

"What is it?" Helen hissed, then looked at Eric. "Oh . . . I'll have to call you back. And I want to _see_ this evidence, whatever it is!" Helen hung up the phone with a sigh. "What can I do for you, Eric?"

"Have you had a chance to go over the latest motions from ATC's lawyers?" Eric asked as he walked into the office.

"Uh," Helen looked confused for a moment. Actually she hadn't even glanced at them. It wasn't very often that she was caught this unprepared. "Some of them, yes. I haven't had a chance to go through them all yet. Something came up while I was working on them, you see."

"So I noticed. You've got the junior associates more terrorized than usual," Eric said with a smirk.

"Terrorized?" Helen frowned. "Who said that??"

"Ah ah ah, Helen, I'm not finking," Eric said with a wave of his finger. "I do want to know, though, why you're ram-rodding a family court case when the ATC commission could mean a fortune when we win it."

"Eric, it's . . ." Helen leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "It's complicated."

"It's distracting is what it is. What happened to my sure-fire go-getter, hmm?" Eric asked. "I've seen you juggle six cases at once. What's so special about a case that won't net peanuts?"

"It involves my daughter, Eric," Helen said with a frown.

"I know, I've read the paperwork. You've also got a couple of the J.A.s downstairs running around like chickens with their heads cut off over it, too."

"Well, it's not exactly like _that_," Helen started to say.

"Helen, cases like ATC are the meat and potatoes of this firm," Eric said as he turned to leave the office. "The juniors know what they're doing. Leave this thing with your daughter to them and get me the reports on those motions, okay?"

"Yes, Eric," Helen slumped in her chair. "I'll have them for you this afternoon."

"That's the spirit," Eric said as he left.

Helen watched Eric leave, then looked over the files spread across her desk. Eric was right -- normally she could juggle several cases at a time. However, none of those cases concerned her as much as this one did.

"Maryanne, would you get me the last batch of depositions from that underwriter ATC used?" Helen asked as she picked up a thick folder from the center of the mess.

"Sure," Maryanne said as she went over to the filing cabinet, stopping a moment after opening the drawer. "Um, Helen, if there's anything that I can do . . ."

"No, thank you, Maryanne." Helen looked off into space at nothing for a moment. "Eric's right. I'm usually more focused than this."

"With all due respect to Mr. Schrecter, you should consider the source. When it comes to relationships, he's no where near an expert," Maryanne said as she walked her fingers across the folder tabs. "I've been here a lot longer than you have and I can tell you from direct observations that he couldn't hold a personal relationship together with superglue. Besides, it involves your daughter, so you've a right to be a little distracted. It's normal."

"Nothing's normal when Daria's involved, Maryanne," Helen said as she closed the folder and deliberately put it off to the side.

"So I've noticed," Maryanne said as she pulled a file out of the drawer and put it on Helen's desk.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Helen asked, cocking her eyebrow at her assistant.

"Um, I mean, uh," Maryanne stammered for a moment.

"Oh, forget it," Helen sighed as she opened the file. "Listen, would you go down stairs and make sure that they have all the current work for Daria's case ready for me when I leave. I want to go over it tonight."

"Of course," Maryanne said as she left the office.

~~~~~~

Quinn walked up to the door of her parents' bedroom and peeked around the corner. Helen was sitting back in bed and going over a pile of paperwork as Jake lay snoring obliviously beside her. She thought her mom usually got more work done in bed than she usually did at the office. Quinn had tried to do her homework in bed, but usually never got anything done and, more often than not, woke up with a sore back.

Sandi had been acting strangely all day, and it was beginning to get to Quinn. In fact, she had been acting strangely all week, but today it had finally become too much. There was no explanation that Quinn could think of that made sense, and Stacy and Tiffany weren't much help, though they were as confused as Quinn was. That left Mom.

"Quinn? Come in," Helen said, looking up and seeing her youngest daughter at door.

"Mom, I need your help," Quinn said as she walked over to her Mom's side of the bed and sat down. "Sandi's been acting really weird almost every day this week, ever since the art fair."

"Weird? How so?" Helen said, putting her paperwork down.

"Well, she hasn't told me about two Fashion Club meetings in the last couple of days, and I think she's dong it deliberately because Stacy and Tiffany have known about them when I asked. Stacy and I have even seen her talking to Brooke, that girl who got all that free surgery from Dr. Sharr when she messed up her nose, and Sandi's always said that she couldn't get into the club because of all the 'artificial enhancements' she'd gotten out of the surgery, whatever that meant."

"Maybe Sandi's decided that it's time for the Fashion Club to expand its membership," Helen said.

"But _Sandi's _the one who sets the membership standards," Quinn replied. "She's very strict about them. She even had to step down as President when she was recovering from that broken leg because all the time in bed made her gain weight, remember?"

"I think so," Helen replied. "Well, what do you think is going on?"

"That's just it, I don't know." Quinn sighed. "I mean, yeah, Sandi's always been a little hard to get along with, but she's, like, my best friend. Every time I ask, she either changes the subject or blows me off."

"She could be having problems at home, you know," Helen said. "Linda isn't the easiest person in the world to get along with, either. It's not surprising that there could be some friction between them."

"I don't know. They _are _a lot alike."

"Look, Quinn, if there's something and she needs some kind of help, she'll come to you when she's ready. You said it yourself, she's your best friend. She knows you're there for her."

"Yeah, I guess," Quinn said as she stood up. "Thanks, Mom."

Quinn walked out of the room feeling that their short little conversation hadn't helped any and, it looked like her Mom really wasn't in a frame of mind to give much in the way of advice. She'd done nothing but pour over the paperwork she bad brought home with her since dinner, and it looked like it was getting to her.

__

Mom's right, Quinn thought as she closed the bedroom door behind her. _If Sandi wants me to help her, she'll come out and ask. She's always gotta do things her own way._

She stood in the hall for a moment, debating with herself over asking Daria or Aunt Amy about the situation, but the doors to her sister's and the guest room were both closed. As late as it was, it was a good bet that both of them were asleep, so Quinn decided not to bother. She could always talk to them in the morning easily enough. They both got up disgustingly early, anyway.

Her mind on the problem with Sandi, Quinn slowly changed clothes to her pajamas and went about the business of getting ready for bed. Normally she could just let problems go for the night, but this thing with Sandi just had its hooks in too deep. Quinn had always thought that the competition between them was a little dumb but felt that she had to try and keep up because of her position in the Fashion Club. Now it seemed that Sandi was actively trying to knock her out of the club. Quinn couldn't understand why, and that bugged her no end.

With a sigh, Quinn pushed open one of the bedroom windows that overlooked the stretch of lawn between their house and the neighbors. Quinn thought, that with the breeze that was blowing towards the back of the house, it would be safe enough to risk a cigarette if she stayed at the window. It was becoming a reflex reaction when her stress level hit a certain point, Quinn had decided a few days back. She wasn't quite sure how, but it helped her concentrate on the problem at hand, at least enough to file it away for later.

With cigarette and lighter in hand, she set her fuzz-covered phone on the floor and took its place on the footlocker so she could lean against the window sill.

__

I suppose I could blame Sandi for this, but I really can't, Quinn thought as she lit the slim cigarette and blew the smoke out into the night air._ What is it with her, anyway? The last time she got this mad was that big dance last year where Jane did all the decorating. So what is it this time? Is she jealous about something? I know she acts all superior, but I can't see her as being just plain mean._

Quinn took a drag on her cigarette and slowly blew the smoke out, watching as the breeze took it towards the back of the house. Unbeknownst to Quinn, the windows on that side of the house in back were open as well, and those windows opened into Daria's room. Inside, Daria rolled over in her bed, dueling with a case of insomnia brought on by a craving for another chicken and pineapple pizza.

Daria's nose twitched slightly at the unfamiliar, smoky odor that mixed in with the scent of the outdoors on the night breeze. Sitting up in her bed, she picked up her glasses and turned to look out of the open window to try and locate the source of the smell. She knew that the neighbor on that side had occasionally smoked outside, indulging in some pretty rancid smelling cigars, but this was awfully late for that. Seeing no one on the grass between the houses or in the back yard of the neighbor's place, Daria looked around for the source of the smell, and saw Quinn leaning out of her window and looking in a different direction. Daria was about to call out and ask Quinn if she had been awakened by the same smell when Quinn lifted her hand and brought a cigarette to her lips.

__

Wonderful. My sister's a closet nicotine fiend, Daria thought as she pulled her head back into her room and slid the window down. She debated about slamming the window so Quinn knew that she was busted, but decided against it. Quinn looked pretty intense about something. Besides, a little blackmail material never hurt.

__

Damned cravings, Daria thought as she kicked the covers off, and gave in to her grumbling stomach. Daria quietly padded out of her room on a general course for the kitchen, thinking that there had to be something down there to satisfy her. _Wonder if Mom's still got those pineapple chunks._

~~~~~~

"So with the gazebo paid off, I'm in pure profit territory," Jane was saying the next morning in Art Class. "And I'm only painting these 'in the style of's' --"

"You mean 'copies of's'," Daria interjected around a yawn. She hadn't slept well the night before at all.

"Fine," Jane said, turning away from her easel to glower at her friend for a moment. "I'm only painting them so I can support myself while I'm doing my own stuff."

"And based on your recent workload, you'll be getting to your own stuff about the time you start clipping coupons for denture paste," Daria pointed out.

__

You would point that out, wouldn't you? Jane thought as Ms Defoe came up behind the two of them on her usual rounds of the classroom.

"Jane," Defoe said as she stopped between the two girls. "Your exploration of the class assignment looks remarkably similar to a van Gogh . . ."

"You might want to keep those safety scissors away from her ears," Daria quipped as she loaded up her brush.

"Okay, I admit that this is somewhat extracurricular," Jane tried to explain.

"You don't have to explain it to me, Jane," Defoe said. "I just hope that you never lose your own unique style."

__

Yeah, my own style, Jane thought as Defoe walked away to check on what Brittany and Kevin were doing.

"She didn't even say anything about my horsey," Daria said in a dry, mock pout. 

Jane finally took a good look at Daria's canvas and cocked her eyebrow at the painting that she was working on: a rather primitive rendition of a horse's skeleton.

__

I wonder why, Jane thought with an inner smirk. "I think Ol' Paint's seen better days, there, Festus. Y'all might want to feed 'im once in a while."

Daria's dry reply died on the tip of her tongue as the door to the classroom opened and Ms Li walked in. She was carrying a manila file folder and walked straight across the room to where Daria was sanding.

"Can I help you, Ms Li?" Ms Defoe asked from Brittany's easel.

"No, Ms Defoe, I merely have something for Ms Morgendorffer," Ms Li said, dismissing the art instructor. She held out the folder to Daria, who looked between it and the principal. "I have a 'special project' for you, Ms Morgendorffer. In order for you to fulfill those academic requirements that your, _ahem_, condition prevents you from completing, I want you to write an article for next week's school newspaper."

"An article for the _Lowdown_?" Daria asked.

"That is what I said. A synopsis on the article's subject matter, as well as some research materials that I have gathered, are in this folder. Feel free to supplement it with your own research, if you wish." She thrust the folder into Daria's brush hand. A bit of gray paint got streaked across the folder as Daria tried to hold on to both items. "Five hundred words, minimum. And I expect it no later than Wednesday morning, nine a.m."

Ms Li started to turn away to leave when she caught sight of Daria's painting. Pausing for a moment, she pulled her glasses down her nose and looked at it over the square rims.

"M-hm," Li sniffed, before turning again and walking out.

"Well, that wasn't awkward at all," Jane said as soon as the door was closed. "What did she give you?"

Daria set her palette and brush down on the milk crate that was between her and Jane's easel. Opening the folder, Daria found a stack of printouts topped of with a sheet that had a single, typewritten paragraph more or less in the center of the page. After reading the synopsis, Daria frowned more harshly than Jane had ever seen her do, and flipped through the rest of the folder. Several articles, either printed from the internet or copied from other publications, were included.

"What?" Jane asked, and Daria handed her the synopsis page in reply. Jane read the first sentence and was unable to get any further. "Oh, she has got to be freaking _kidding_!"

~~~~~~

" 'Write an editorial article on the failure of the scholastic sexual education system to prevent teen aged pregnancy and reduce promiscuity among teens?' " Jodie Landon read as she, Mack, Daria, and Jane commiserated over their lunch trays. If the industrial entree wasn't enough to kill her appetite, what she was reading did it in full. "Damn, Daria. I didn't think even Ms Li could sink _that _low."

"Let me see," Mack asked, and Jodie handed over the sheet of paper.

"It gets worse," Daria said, glumly pushing her green beans around her plate. "Keep reading."

" 'Include your personal views on how these changes to the system could have assisted in preventing your current condition and preventing others from making similar mistakes in the future?' " Mack looked repulsed.

"I take it back," Jodie said sadly.

"What are you going to do?" Jane asked.

"What _can _I do?" Daria asked in return, dropping her fork on her plate. "Mom's already on the warpath with Tom's parents, despite the fact that he's not fighting this at all. This would be all she needs to send her right over the edge. Dad would just go into another rant about Tom and teenaged boys in general talking girls into doing things that they wouldn't ordinarily want to do in the first place." Daria frowned. "I'm just going to have to write the article."

"Why not go to your Mom, anyway?" Jane asked, looking among the three others. "Or that violation of civil liberties thing, would that apply here?" 

"I don't see how," Daria replied. "Li could argue that it's a legitimate assignment to fill in for the physical education credits that I won't be getting. The subject of the assignment wouldn't have anything to do with it."

"An assignment is one thing, but this is asking you to fall on your sword and parade yourself as a walking example of how the education system screwed up." Mack put the synopsis sheet back on the folder next to Daria. "It might not be a violation of civil liberties, but it sure as hell's a violation of good taste."

"Mack's right," Jane said. "Legal or not, this is just plain wrong."

"Well, then what am I supposed to do?" Daria asked. "Even if Mom doesn't go completely ballistic, all that fighting Ms. Li on this will do is make things worse in the long run. It's just a stupid, disgusting, narrow-minded assignment in order to make up for a few days of class."

"Daria, this is the same thing that she did to Carrie Landingham. Remember, we told you about her?" Jodie said. "Li forced her to commit social suicide, harassing and badgering her the whole time on how what had happened was a black eye to the whole school. She had self-esteem problems -- _real_ problems that should have been treated by professionals, but instead she ended up being stuck in O'Neill's esteem workshop."

"I remember her," Jane said, looking at the table. "She's the only person I knew who had taken it more times than I did."

"That's next. You just watch, you'll see that I'm right." Jodie tapped the table with her finger. "Look, my parents know some people on the Board of Education. I'll have to fall on my own sword, but maybe they can do something."

"Yeah, right," Daria sighed. "This is ridiculous. Not only does Li want my life, she wants my virginity on top of it."

"Hey, we all do," Jane replied with a shrug.

"Why Jane, if only I'd known sooner." Daria tried to keep up her end of the banter, but it was very strained.

"Attention students. This is Dr. Manson," the public address system crackled, causing the conversation in the lunch room to die down. "Daria Morgendorffer, please report to my office. Daria Morgendorffer, report to my office. At once. Thank you."

"Crap," Daria mumbled as she got up from the table and walked out of the lunch room, a few hoots and jeers following in her wake. Her three friends could only look on helplessly.

~~~~~~

"Dammit to hell! What sociopathic paralegal keeps stealing my 'sign here' post-its?"

Maryanne sat at her seldom used desk outside Helen's office and screwed her eyes shut as her boss's voice penetrated the walls. This day hadn't started out very well, and was progressively getting worse. Helen was trying to concentrate on both the ATC Motors suit and still ride herd on the Junior Associates who were handling the child support case that Helen was bringing against the Slones. It was obvious to everyone on this side of the building where Helen's energies were focused.

"Sounds like she's in a bit of a mood," Maryanne heard someone say. She looked up and saw a young man with light, short cropped hair come walking up to her desk carrying a file folder. Judging by the rumpled state of his shirt and tie, he'd been working all night.

"Oh, tell me about it, Ian," Maryanne said to the Junior Associate. "You sure you want to go in there?"

"I've got a choice?" Ian asked with a nervous chuckle. "You might want to hide under your desk when I tell her what I've got. She is going to flip her wig when she hears this."

"Wonderful. You really know how to make my life difficult." Maryanne picked up the receiver from her phone and pressed the intercom. "Helen, Ian's here . . . Okay." She hung up. "Go on in."

"We who are about to die, salute you," Ian said theatrically as he drew his back straight and twisted the door knob.

"Ian, come in," Helen said from behind her very cluttered desk as Ian entered and closed the door behind him. "What were you able to find out?"

"Well, I finally managed to wrangle copies of the depositions that Mr. Moore, the Sloane's lawyer, had been sitting on," Ian said as he pulled the chair from the computer desk over in front of Helen's and sat down. He opened his folder and flipped a couple of pages. "It seems that a couple of witnesses have cropped up that say your daughter Daria was attending a pretty wild party around the time that she would have gotten pregnant."

"What? That's ridiculous!" Helen slapped the paperwork she was looking at down on her desk and glared at Ian. "Daria doesn't go to parties! I have to practically get physical just to get her to leave the house, sometimes!"

"I just read them, Mrs. Morgendorffer, I don't make them up," Ian said, glancing up and then back at the page he was working from. He swallowed once before continuing, knowing it wasn't going to be pretty. "Now, _allegedly_, your daughter had propositioned several boys over the course of the evening and was seen disappearing in to various back rooms at least four different times that night. Each time with a different escort."

"_What?!_ Who the hell came up with _that_ load of crap?" Helen's face turned about the same shade as her maroon suit.

"According to my information," Ian said as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Mr. Moore was approached by one Linda Griffin when her daughter heard Daria talking about the case in school. Evidently, the daughter and one of her friends were supposedly at this party I was talking about."

"I know the Griffins. Linda's a witch and her daughter Sandi is a chip off the old cauldron. What's the friend's name?" Helen asked through clenched teeth and wondering how she could justify strangling Quinn for being involved in this.

"A girl by the name of . . ." Ian flipped a page. "Brooke Wannamaker, evidently."

"Who?" Helen asked, reaching out for the file, which Ian handed over. _Not Quinn, thank Heaven._ "Wannamaker. I know that name, I think."

"The plastic surgery suit a couple of years ago that Riordan handled, remember?" Ian prompted.

"Oh yes. That's the girl who . . . Wait, Quinn knows this girl. Sandi Griffin's her best friend, so why the hell . . .?" Helen quickly glanced over the papers as she tried to assemble the seemingly unrelated pieces of the puzzle that had been happened on. Linda Griffin was a bitch and a blowhard, but this wasn't really her style, though Helen wouldn't put it passed her.

"What do you want to do?" Ian asked. "This is coming up in front of the judge in a couple of days."

"I know. Believe me, I know," Helen muttered as she leaned back in her chair. The glare she gave the mess on her desk could have started a fire if she held it for much longer. "Subpoena Linda and Sandi Griffin, and this Brooke Wannamaker. I want to know the names of everyone at that party, and then I want _them _served as well. In the meantime, I'll have a talk with Quinn and try to get that ball rolling."

"This is going to take some time," Ian said.

"Then why the hell are you still sitting here?" Helen asked Ian as she handed back the depositions.

"Color me gone," Ian said as he stood up and walked across the room.

"And pull the Scharr / Wannamaker case from Riordan's files. I want to know if there's any connection to the Griffins there," Helen said as Ian grasped the knob.

"Right. I can have something on that for you in a couple of hours." Ian pulled the door open and pulled up short when he just about collided with someone on the other side. "Mr. Schrecter! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there."

"Eric!" Helen blinked. "This is a surprise."

"So I gathered," Eric said as he reached out and turned the file folder Ian was carrying so he could see the tab. "Hmm. You can go, now, Ian."

"Yessir," Ian stammered as he slipped around Eric.

"So, Helen," Eric said as he closed the door behind him. "Why is it that file said 'Morgendorffer v. Sloane' and not 'ATC Motors,' hmm?"

"Ian was just briefing me on what progress was being made on the case, that's all," Helen said reasonably. "Something came up that he thought I should know about and --"

"And you instructed him to serve three people with subpoenas and pull a two year old case file," Eric finished for her.

"Yes, well . . ."

"Helen, we've talked about this." Eric sat down in the chair that Ian had vacated a few moments before and pulled it up to her desk. "The juniors know what they're doing, hell, they can probably do this stuff in their sleep. Your daughter's in good hands, and she'll still be there when this thing is done, but right now I need you concentrating on ATC."

"Eric, this is my daughter we're talking about here, not someone else's kid who came in looking to strike it rich," Helen said with an exasperated sigh. "You _can't _expect me not to take a personal interest in this."

"What I expect is that you'll act like a professional and concentrate on the cases that you've been assigned." Eric leaned forward. "Remember that report the lab coats at Quiet Ivy put together? Well, I've been going over it again, these last few days, specifically the parts about unhealthy self-involvement and a gross insensitivity to others needs." He began tapping his index finger on Helen's desk. "You've been entirely too involved in this child support case, a case that isn't going to net this firm one plug nickel in billable hours. I haven't said anything because, up till a little while ago, you've been keeping your focus on the ATC Motors case, and _that's _where it needs to stay. Your job is to see to it that ATC Motors --"

"The Slones are blocking the child support motion even though their son stipulates to being the father, Eric, and now they've come up with something that's going to make this even harder!" Helen glared back at Eric, whose eyebrow elevated at her interruption. "ATC Motors is not my job! My _job_ is to see to it that my eighteen-year-old daughter can raise my _grandchild_!"

"I understand that --"

"No, you don't! Dammit, Eric, gross insensitivity and unhealthy self involvement are part of the reasons that Daria's in this mess!" Helen stood up and began pacing around the room. "If I hadn't had my head buried so deep in this miserable place, chances are we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I would have seen something like this coming and my daughter wouldn't be looking forward to being a teenaged mother!" Helen stopped pacing and whirled on Eric. "I'm trying to keep a family together, for Pete's sake, and none of this is helping any!"

"I'm trying to keep a family together too, Helen -- this firm. And the one who's not helping right now is you," Eric said standing up and facing off against Helen. "Look, families go through these things all the time. They'll understand and they'll be there for you when this is all over, but right now --"

"I've been telling myself that for years, first in Highland, and now here, but that doesn't make it true!"

"But right now, I need you focused _here_!" Eric finished, shouting over Helen. "Dammit, Helen, when are you going to get your priorities straight!"

Helen blinked and stepped back from her boss a couple of paces. She wasn't getting through to Eric at all, and for the first time in a long time it had finally sunk in. If what Maryanne had told her a couple days ago was right, it was no wonder Eric couldn't maintain a stable relationship outside the office -- he was hard wired into it, heart, mind and soul.

"Eric, you're right," Helen said, taking a deep breath. "I should have had my priorities on this straight from the beginning."

"Good, Helen, that's great! Now, I --"

"Therefore, I am requesting an extended leave of absence, starting immediately," Helen continued as she pulled her briefcase from underneath her desk and stuffed a couple of files into it. "You will have the formal letter by the close of business today, and I'll ask Maryanne to distribute my active case load around the office, so nothing sits for too long."

"Now wait one damn second! Where do you get off --"

"_Don't_ make me make this a letter of resignation, Eric. " Helen straightened up. "Neither of us wants that, but I'll do it."

"Yeah, I'll just bet you would too," Eric said as he followed Helen out of the office. "You've just screwed up any possibility you've ever had at making partner, you know that don't you?"

Maryanne was looking very confused as Helen and Eric came out of the office and stopped in front of her desk. She couldn't help but hear the argument through the paper thin walls, and was wondering what was going on.

"Maryanne, starting today I'm gong to be taking some time off. Please distribute my case load around the office and tell Ian that I'll be calling him in a couple of hours. There's also a few personal items I'll be needing out of my office later." Helen turned back to Eric. "That's not going to work, Eric. You've been waving that carrot in front of my nose for a year and a half and never had any intention of letting me get any closer to it, and I'm getting tired of chasing it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have a long day ahead."

~~~~~~

Salvador Dali called the painting _Persistence of Memory_. Most other people only knew it as a weird painting with a bunch of melted-looking clocks and watches in it. Jane, however, was thinking up new and, occasionally, decidedly crude names every five minutes for the copy she was painting. She had spent the last four hours working on the reproduction and was bored out of her mind. The contractors had woke her up that morning with their off-again, on-again work on the gazebo, and Jane figured that she might as well get something constructive done.

__

This is the last time I copy Dali, Jane thought with a yawn. _If doing the copy is this boring, how dull could doing the original have been? I need a caffeine break big time._

Jane turned to clean the brush she was using just as her brother walked into the room.

"Trent, you're up early," Jane observed tiredly.

"Those workers promised they'd have something done by two o'clock, so I thought I'd better get up and check it out," Trent explained, running his fingers through his bed-head hair. "Hey, why don't you bring your easel down and you can, like, portray the birth of the new gazebo."

"Trent, if I had a spare moment, I sure as hell wouldn't spend it painting," Jane glowered with a shake of her head.

"Whoa, copying burnout! That's why Spiral doesn't play covers, because of what it would do to our creativity," Trent pointed out. "And the ironic thing is, I _am_ as free as a bird."

"Good for you, Trent. Stay true to your art. I'm sure you'll always have the negative bank balance to prove it." That was the only upside that Jane could find to all of this. She'd have her own money stashed away for the future.

"Hey, Janey, I'd rather balance my artistic statement than my bank statement," Trent replied with a little more energy.

"Hunh?" Jane raised her eyebrows.

"I don't know," Trent said after a second, then turned and started walking out of the room. "I thought I had something there."

"My arm's getting tired, dammit!" Jane shouted after her brother, as she massaged the exhausted muscles above her elbow. She looked down at her hand, still holding the brush, and watched the slight tremor in her fingers shake the bristles.

"It never used to," she finished quietly.

Jane dropped the brush into a jar of murky cleanser and then dropped down on her bed, grabbing up the remote in the process. She figured that she just needed a break. After all, even the masters of old had to take some time off once in a while. Hitting the Power button on the remote, Jane was immediately greeted by the welcome, hammering beat of the theme from _Sick, Sad World_. Normally, she could veg out to this show for hours.

"What's more heartless than pilfering a roll of toilet paper?" the announcer's voice rattled the television. "Transforming it into a roll of twenties! 'The Squeezablely Soft Counterfeiter,' next on _Sick, Sad World_!"

"Counterfeiting?" Jane asked herself as she muted the commercials. She turned and looked at the painting sitting on her easel. _What if --?_

"Hey! This doesn't go with the house! What about my resale value?" Trent's voice echoed up from the back yard.

"Look, pal, that's why I rent," the guy in charge of the workmen said in an equally loud tone.

__

That's it, I am so out of here. Jane shut off the television and headed for the door. She couldn't relax with Trent and the workmen going at it like that. Besides, she had plans to meet up with Daria for pizza anyway, and even chicken and pineapple pizza was better than standing around her room and staring at that stupid Dali all day.

It only took a few minutes to walk the two blocks to Daria's house, and a couple of minutes after that, Daria appeared at the front door. Visible through the door behind Daria, Helen was sitting at one of the sofas with paper work spread out on the other two as well as the coffee table. She and Jake appeared to be in a rather heated discussion, though that was a polite term for it.

"Dammit, Helen! You just can't quit!" Jake was shouting before Jane could even say hello.

"I didn't quit, Jake. I just took a leave of absence so I could concentrate on Daria's case," Helen loudly replied, trying to concentrate on her expanse of paperwork.

"We need every penny that we can get and you have to do this _now_??" Jake started prowling around the room. "How are we supposed to afford this on only one income?"

Daria turned back to Jane with an expression that clearly said 'get me the hell out of here _now_.' Jane didn't need any translation and silently grabbed Daria by the arm and pulled her out of the front door and onto the sidewalk while quietly shutting it behind them.

"What's with your mother?" Jane asked as they started walked. "She's on a leave of absence?"

"Yeah, she told us this morning. Apparently Mom and Eric got into a big argument over how Mom was handling this big ATC Motors case and keeping track of the child support thing on the side. I guess that she finally wised up and told Eric that she was taking time off. Now she's working full time on the suit she's bringing against the Sloanes."

"She's still going through with that?" Jane asked with a raised eyebrow. "How come?"

"Yep. The Sloanes have been fighting it. Mr. more than Mrs., but still," Daria sighed. "The fact that Tom's on our side on this thing makes it more difficult for them, but it doesn't help us all that much either."

"Why not? You're both eighteen."

"But we're still both dependants of our parents. Hence the problems." Daria's normal expression was beginning to look more troubled.

"Ah." Jane nodded, deciding that now would be a good time to change the subject. "I didn't see your aunt's car there. Helen finally drive her off?"

"No, she's at the museum. Apparently she got called in to go over some of that collection again. She didn't seem too happy about it, though. Apparently, they're worried about finding another fake."

"Mrs. S is going to flip when she finds out who your aunt really is," Jane said with a smile.

"And here I thought her identity as an internationally renowned thief was safe at last," Daria said dryly.

"No, I mean when she finds out that Amy is your aunt. She'll go nuts."

"Thankfully, that hasn't happened yet. So far, all they do is talk shop about this stuff Aunt Amy's working on. She hasn't volunteered anything and Mrs. Sloane hasn't asked."

"Speaking of fakes, here's a funny thought," Jane said. "Wouldn't it be hilarious if Gary was some huge art counterfeiting kingpin?"

"Oh yeah. You'd be laughing all the way to the big house," Daria replied, stopping and looking at her friend.

"No, listen. What if my copies are really good enough to fool people," Jane said, completely serious. "It would be a cinch for him to make millions off my hard work."

"To do what, finance a secret robot army?" Daria asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"I'm serious. Look, Gary's is only a couple of blocks away. We're going to head over there right now and enact a sting operation," Jane said with her hands on her hips and a determined look on her face.

"Fine. You wear the moustache and I'll hide in the ceiling vent," Daria said with a sigh. As they started walking again, she put her hand over her abdomen. "Come on, Junior. Mommy needs to help her crazy friend commit a felony."

"You know, that's the first time I've seen you do that," Jane said softly.

"Do what?"

"Talk to the baby. Or call yourself 'mommy' for that matter."

"Lack of nourishment. I haven't had any lunch yet," Daria said, not wanting to pursue the subject. "Can we stop for some pizza before we make fools of ourselves at Gary's?"

"Ha ha. Just no pineapple this time, okay?"

~~~~~~

"Okay, here's the plan," Jane said as the walked up the street towards Gary's Gallery. "There's an invoice book behind the counter that should tell us who bought my last painting. You have to distract Gary while I'm grabbing it."

"And just how am I supposed to do that?" Daria asked, still not believing that she was going to go through with this.

"You'll figure something out. Use your womanly attributes," Jane said with a shrug.

"Gotcha. I'll give birth."

"That'll work," Jane said as they walked up to the door. "Oh, and by the way, until you pop, _I'm_ ordering the pizza toppings."

"What do you mean?"

"Broccoli and mandarin oranges??" Jane shuddered. "That's _almost _enough to make me quit pizza for good."

"Hey, we went half and half," Daria said.

"Yeah, but I had to watch you eat it." Jane pushed the door open.

"Hey, Jane!" Gary greeted the two girls as they walked into the store ad up to where he was standing. "How's that Dali coming along? I think I can pre-sell it."

"Great, great. Gary, this is my friend, Daria," Jane gestured to Daria. "She's . . . very interested in art recreations."

"Um. Yes, I am very interested. Although --" _God, this is so stupid._ "-- gee, they look so simple, as if anyone could do them."

"Nothing could be further from the truth! Let me show you." Gary led Daria off to another corner of the small store as Jane slipped over to the counter and began shuffling through the stacks of papers. "Why do people yearn to see the great paintings for themselves when they can normally just look in a book?"

"Paper cuts?" Daria asked dryly as Jane ransacked the desk

"Color, texture, _vibrancy_," Gary said, warming to the subject. Behind him, Daria saw Jane quickly roll up a couple of pages and stuff them into her pocket as she stepped out from behind the counter. "The palpable energy that comes from being in the presence of the work itself!"

"Thanks for clearing that up, Gary, but we really need to be going," Jane said as she walked up behind the gallery owner.

"Oh, I know what I wanted to ask you. Can you do O'Keefe? The guy that bought your last painting, Steve Taylor, wants one for his wife's birthday."

"Ah ha. Our clever subterfuge has finally unearthed the truth," Daria said.

"Steve Taylor bought my last painting?" Jane asked, not quite sure she had heard right.

"He's a regular customer," Gary said. "Why? You know him?"

"Yeah, sort of," Jane said after a moment. All she had in her pocket was an address and a receipt for cash. "C'mon, Daria. Let's, um, go and get some lunch or something."

"Sure. I'm starved," Daria said as they turned to go.

"Yeah, I'll just bet," Jane said weakly.

The two girls were about to leave the store when someone from the other side opened the door and stepped through. Amy Barksdale stepped through, replacing a pair of sunglasses with her regular, large round wire frames.

"Hi Daria, Jane," Amy greeted the girls. "Fancy meeting you here. Picking up another commission?"

"Not really," Jane said. "Just, um, checking to see how my stuff was selling."

"What are you doing here?" Daria asked. "I thought you were working at the museum."

"Oh, I finished what I was doing earlier than I thought and remembered Jane talking about this place at the art fair. I thought I'd check it out."

"Well, we'll leave you to it," Daria said. "We were just heading out."

"Can I give you a ride someplace?" Amy asked.

"No thanks. I figured I'd walk while I still had the ability," Daria said.

"Hey, Amy, do you mind if I ask you an odd question?" Jane asked Amy, and got a nod in reply. "That pastel that you showed me at the art fair, did the girl you said you got it from have long brown hair and tattoos on her forearms? Dark blue eyes?"

"Uh," Amy thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think so. Why? Do you know her?"

"Well, sort of. I thought I recognized the style. There was this girl at an art colony I went to last summer who did some pretty good pastels."

"Oh, okay. Well if you see her again, tell her to keep up the good work," Amy said. "From what I saw, she has some great stuff."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Jane said unsteadily. "Well, we'll be seeing you."

"Later," Amy said as the two girls left the store.

Daria watched the emotions play across her friend's face as they walked away from Gary's. When Jane hadn't said anything after part of a block, she decided to break the silence.

"Are you okay?" Daria asked.

"Remember when I said I thought I knew who did that picture your aunt got from the fair?"

"Yeah, you said her name was Alison."

"Well, Alison has brown hair, dark blue eyes and tats on her arms." Jane frowned, her mind obviously not in the present.

"Jane, what happened?" Daria asked, bringing Jane to a stop with a hand on her arm. "If she did something, well, that she wasn't supposed to --"

"No, nothing like that," Jane said, dismissing the subject. "Well, not really, anyway."

"Then what? Jane --"

"I really don't want to talk about it, okay?" Jane said, resuming walking. "C'mon, let's just go over to the Taylors' place. I've got a couple of questions for that guy."

~~~~~~

Helen thought she was finally getting ahead of the curve with Daria's case. She had reviewed the entire document from cover to cover, and was now in the process of filling in the blanks. According to Ian, the subpoenas had already been served, though finding a judge to do them on as short a notice as Helen had given had been pretty difficult. She would have loved to have been able to see Linda Griffin's face when the papers for her and her daughter were served. Imagining the scene brought a look of grim satisfaction to Helen's face as she worked.

The doorbell rang and broke Helen's concentration. Jake was out in the garage, piddling around with his model railroads, and neither Quinn nor Daria were home. Tucking the stack of papers she was going through against her side, she got up with a sigh and went over and opened the door. Standing there, and looking more than a little nervous, was Stacy Rowe.

"Hi, Stacy," Helen said quickly. "Quinn's not home yet."

"Yeah, I know," Stacy said with a bit of a shake in her voice. "Actually, I came to talk to you."

"Oh. Stacy, honey, I'm just in the middle of an enormous --"

"It's about what Sandi said about Daria at a party," Stacy interrupted rapidly, as if she was afraid that she wouldn't get the words out fast enough.

"Oh . . . Come in," Helen stepped aside to give Stacy a little space. She knew that Stacy was the nervous type and didn't want her running off before she could say what she wanted to say. It must have been serious if she was here on her own. Helen mentally pulled on her kid gloves. "Why don't we go in the kitchen and sit down, hmm?"

"Sure."

"Would you like a soda or something?" Helen asked, putting her paperwork on the sofa as they passed and grabbing a note pad. She thought about getting her micro-cassette recorder out of her briefcase, but she didn't want to frighten Stacy any more than it appeared she already was.

"No, thanks, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Stacy said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Please, have a seat." Helen gestured to one of the chairs surrounding the table. "Do you mind if I take notes while we talk?"

"Whatever," Stacy said. "Look, could you not tell Sandi about this? She'll go nuts if she finds out I'm telling you this."

"I can't promise anything, Stacy. We're going into court Tuesday," Helen said as gently as she could.

"Oh, okay." Stacy looked around the kitchen. "Um, don't you need one of those guys with the typewriter thingy for something like this? Or a tape recorder or something?"

"Well, I should have a recorder. You don't mind?"

"If you're supposed to have one, I guess not."

Helen left the room and grabbed her recorder and a fresh tape out of her briefcase in the living room. By the time she had gotten back into the kitchen, Stacy had taken a steno pad out of her own back pack and was sitting there looking at a page covered in shorthand notes. Helen sat back down, placed the tape in the recorder, and turned it on.

"For the record," Helen said formally into the machine's miniature microphone. "It is three ten pm, Sunday afternoon. Helen Morgendorffer, attorney at law, present." She put the recorder down in the middle of the table. "Would you state your name, sweetie?"

"Stacy Rowe," Stacy said, leaning in towards the recorder slightly and closing her steno book. "I'm Secretary of the Lawndale High Fashion Club. Although, we haven't been meeting for about a week now."

"I see. Why did you come here today?"

"Well, uh," Stacy took a deep breath and let the floodgates open. "I wanted to talk to you about this thing that's going on with Daria and what Sandi said about her being at a party with a bunch of guys, which is totally _not _true. Sandi just said that because she bombed a test that Daria gave when she was substituting in Language Arts. Then she tried to make Daria look bad because she knew about her being pregnant and all and brought it out to the entire class so that she could make Quinn look bad too because she kept calling Daria her cousin for so long. Then Sandi got Brooke to tell this rumor about the party to some lawyer guy and --"

"Wait," Helen interrupted Stacy's story. "This would be Brooke Wannamaker?"

"Yeah, she's the one who's nose caved in because of --" Stacy started, but Helen stopped her with a raised hand.

"I'm familiar with the story," Helen said, jotting a couple of notes. "How did Brooke get involved with all of this?"

"Well, uh," Stacy fidgeted and played with one of her pigtails for a couple of seconds, then opened her steno pad to a certain page and pushed it towards Helen. "Here, I wrote it down."

"I'm sorry, Stacy, I don't read shorthand," Helen said, looking over the page. It might as well have been in Arabic.

"Oh, I thought all court people could," Stacy said, taking the pad back.

"Unfortunately, no. I never could get the hang of it," Helen said with a half smile.

"Oh. I suppose I ought to read it out loud, huh?"

"Why don't you just tell me the high points of it first, hmm?"

"Well, I was in Junior 5 trying on some new clothes and I heard Brooke talking with this other girl, Veronica I think her name is. Brooke was telling Veronica that, um, well, she was saying that if she told Sandi's story to this Tom guy's parents' lawyer, then she would get the Vice President's spot in the Fashion Club after Sandi tossed Quinn out of it."

"WHAT??"

Helen and Stacy turned to see Quinn, wide-eyed and shocked, standing in the doorway of between the kitchen and living room.

"Quinn, calm down and just wait a second --"

"Quinn, I'm sorry!" Stacy was on her feet and ran over to where Quinn was standing, practically in tears. "You weren't supposed to know about this! Neither was I, really, but when I heard Brooke and Veronica talking about it, I just had to do something! Sandi was all mad at your sister, and now she's going to be mad at me too and I didn't know what else to do!! You're my bestest friend and a really good vice-president and _oh GOD!!_"

Stacy pushed past Quinn, practically bawling as she ran out of the house. Quinn was hot on her heels after a stunned second or two, calling out her friend's name. Left behind in the kitchen, Helen reached past the tape recorder on the table and picked up the steno pad that Stacy had left behind, looking at the page that she had seen. She sat in silence for a second, then picked the telephone up off of it's base and dialed a number from memory.

"Hello, Maryanne?" Helen said when the person on the other end of the line picked up. "This is Helen. Could you come over to my house right away, please? I need you to transcribe some shorthand."

~~~~~~

Stacy's burst of energy had finally spent itself after about half a block. She leaned against a light post, tried to catch her breath and contain her tears. The combination of crying and running didn't make for much when it came to covering great distances.

__

I finally went and did it! _I try so hard to be accepted and liked and do the right thing and now I've screwed it up for good! _Stacy thought frantically. _Sandi's going to hate me and Quinn's never going to talk to me again!_

"Stacy, wait!"

She turned to see Quinn running up to her, out of breath herself. Quinn leaned her shoulder on the light pole and tried to recover.

"This is where you tell me you hate me, isn't it?" Stacy panted, looking down at her shoes. "Well, go ahead. I can . . ." She sniffed. "I can make new friends."

"Stacy, I don't hate you! You're still my friend," Quinn said, breathing hard. "And I'm not mad either."

"Yes you are. Sandi will be, too when she finds out. She always does." Stacy sniffed again. "And then I'll get thrown out of the Fashion Club and nobody will like me and I'll never be able to get a date or anything."

"You stood up to her before, remember? When she spilled the beans about Daria?"

"That was different." Stacy glanced at Quinn, then looked back at her shoes. "That time it felt like she was talking about my mom."

"I know. That wasn't very nice." Quinn put her hand on Stacy's shoulder. "This isn't very nice either, what she's doing now."

"No, it's not." Stacy sniffed again. "Are you still my friend?"

"Of course," Quinn laughed. "C'mon, let's go back to the house."

"Okay." Stacy smiled tiredly.

"Only, let's walk this time. One thing for sure, you can't run in suede shoes."

~~~~~~

__

Amazing what threatening not to pay someone can accomplish, Jane mused as she sat back on the steps of the newly completed gazebo, a smile on her face. _Then again, it's pretty amazing what money can make someone do, too._

Jane had run home on her lunch break from school to find Trent and the workmen sacked out in the back yard around the half completed structure. That had been the final straw, and Jane let it be known in no uncertain terms that the job was to be completed by the time she got back from school, four hours later, or they wouldn't see one red cent. She even drafted Trent into helping, semi-against his will, but he knew better than to argue with Jane when she got that mad. Apparently, the workmen weren't going to try either, because, as threatened, the gazebo had been finished by the time Jane had arrived home with Daria and Tom in tow. Now Trent was sitting at the base of the gazebo, rubbing his arms and looking like he was wishing he had an ice pack.

Daria and Tom were standing next to the gazebo, looking the thing over. The new gazebo didn't quite match the one that had collapsed, but they were all willing to bet that neither Vincent and Amanda Lane. Neither of them were home for any real length of time, and that little detail wasn't enough to bother Jane anyway. She had had Tom stop at the gallery just long enough to tell Gary that she had quit.

"So, Gary took your resignation in stride?" Daria asked, watching Trent rub his arms and occasionally glare at Tom.

"He said his door is always open if I should change my mind," Jane said, then lowered her voice conspiratorially and lowered her eyebrows. "But, between you and me, there's something fishy about that door. I think it's a counterfeit."

"Whoa," Trent groaned.

"You know, maybe I will do a painting of the gazebo," Jane mused. "I can call it 'Descent Into Madness.' "

"Or 'Gazebo.' " Daria said.

"Good thing Spiral's still traumatized, because I think I'm too sore to play," Trent groaned from his place on the ground.

"What happened?" Tom asked.

"Musicians aren't really accustomed to hard labor," Jane said with half a smile. "Trent had to help the workmen put this thing up or they wouldn't get paid."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," Trent said with a frown.

"What are you guys doing out here?" Amanda Lane said as she and her husband Vincent walked around the house and into the back yard.

"Mom! Dad! You're back early!" Jane said in surprise. She hadn't even heard their van drive up.

"Our hotel broke off the mainland and floated away," Vincent explained. "Hey, it might not be safe to sit in there."

"We're risk takers." Jane smirked, knowing it would take more than an exploding fog machine to take this new gazebo down.

"We really should tear down this ugly thing," Amanda said, looking over the structure.

"Yeah, only country house phonies have gazeboes these days," Vincent said in agreement.

"But, Wind said that this was your Naming Gazebo," Trent said, looking from parent to parent in confusion.

"Wind said what?" Amanda asked.

"He said that this was where you took the kids to decide their names," Tom prompted. "Seemed rather passionate about the subject, too."

"Oh, now I remember," Amanda said with a smile and a shake of her head. "Years ago, Wind wanted to change his name to 'Ronald.' We made up that story so that he'd appreciate the name we gave him."

"Ronald?" Daria asked. _What was wrong with that?_

"You can see we had no other choice," Vincent said. "Tell you what, as soon as I unpack, Trent and I will grab some axes and chop this gazebo up into kindling! What do you say, son?"

Trent just groaned while Jane got an angry look on her face.

"I'm gonna kill Wind," Jane promised.

"I'm gonna get some aspirin," Trent groaned as he levered himself up from the ground.

"Why?" Amanda asked. "What's the matter?"

"Take a seat and I'll tell you a little story about your Naming Gazebo," Jane said, not about to let the product of her stress and a week of cranking out copies of paintings get chopped to bits.

Trent didn't bother to listen, but simply wandered into the house and walked to the upstairs bathroom. After rummaging around in the medicine chest for a few seconds, he found the aspirin bottle and dumped four pills into the palm of his hand before walking over to his bedroom. Grabbing a stale, three-day-old soda from on top of his stereo, Trent walked over to the window and looked out into the backyard.

Tom and Daria had taken Jane's place on the gazebo steps, while Jane walked back and forth and related the relevant events of the past couple of weeks to their Mom and Dad, who were shaking their heads in disbelief. Trent looked down at Tom and Daria, who were holding hands between them. He doubted that the Sloanes lived in a country house, but that didn't make Tom any less of a phony in his book.

Trent popped the aspirin into his mouth and then washed it down with the flat soda, almost gagging on the taste.

"Eww," Trent groaned, tossing the can in the general direction of the trash can, then walked over to his bed and picked up the duck-phone, under which was a list of gigs that they were scheduled to play. He ran his finger down the list.

"Aw, crap," Trent groaned again. They were supposed to play McGrundy's on Sunday nights, and he had forgotten to call them and let them know that the band wouldn't be able to make it. He picked up the receiver and dialed a number from memory.

"Hello?" A woman's voice answered after a ring or two.

"Yeah, is Max there? It's Trent."

"Yeah, hold on a sec."

There was about a minute's worth of background noise before the phone was picked up again.

"Yeah?" Max sounded like he had been sleeping.

"Yo, Max, it's Trent. We got a gig tonight."

"Dude, we're still traumatized, remember?" Max said, waking up a little.

"Well, I forgot to call McGrundy's," Trent explained. "So I guess we play traumatized."

"Jeez, man! I bet you forgot to call the Zon too," Max groaned, mentioning their Tuesday gig.

Trent looked back at his list. "Crap!"

Max chuckled. "I'll throw the drums in the Tank and meet you in a couple of hours."

"Thanks, Max." Trent's shoulders slumped, and he tried not to wince.

"No problem, but you have to call Nick and Jesse. Later." Nick hung up.

Trent hung the phone up for a second and then picked it up and dialed Jesse's number. As the phone rang, Trent wondered where Jane kept her deep heating muscle rub. He was going to need a lot of that when the night was over.

~~~~~~

On Tuesday afternoon, Amy sat at her worktable in the storage and restoration room of the Lawndale Art Museum, flipping through what she hoped was her last batch of paperwork of the day. Being an art appraiser and authenticator meant she spent most of her working hours either squinting through a magnifying glass of some kind, or into a word-processor to crank out the acres of paperwork the job seemed to require. The pay was great, but on the whole the job was horrendously boring.

__

Why couldn't I have been a reporter or a photo journalist? Damned well would have been more exciting than this, but it wouldn't pay as well, Amy thought as she closed her folder and glanced at her watch. _Helen and the kids are supposed to go into court any time now. I've got to get moving if I'm going to be there for any of it._

Amy tossed the folder into the bench's shallow drawer and locked it as the telephone over on the wall near the door started ringing. She ignored it as and picked up her purse while one of the museum employees got the phone.

"S and R," the young man said into the receiver. "Yes, ma'am, she's just heading out. . . Okay." He hung up the phone and turned to Amy, who was walking towards the door. "Mrs. Sloane wants you to swing by her office on your way out, something about the big bordello tapestry. Says it won't take two minutes."

"Thanks," Amy said as she walked out of the big sliding door and began to thread her way through the museum's back corridors. Two minutes tended to mean half an hour, but maybe she could get this put off until tomorrow.

As she approached the open door to Kay's office, she heard Kay's voice coming through the door and into the corridor. Her initial assumption was that Kay was dealing with one of the museum personnel about something, but when she heard the response, she stopped in her tracks just short of the door.

"I have to meet Moore in court in half an hour. He says he finally has what he needs to put that miserable woman out of our misery," the terrifyingly familiar voice said.

"Excellent, I just need to have a quick conversation with Amy and I'll meet you there, okay?" Amy heard Kay reply.

Amy felt like her intestines had turned to ice water and dropped down to the bottom of her belly. This time there was no tinny answering machine speaker to distort the voice she heard. It was a little older, and a little rougher, but it was practically a sound bite out of what was probably the worst chapter of her past. Swallowing hard, and trying not to hyperventilate, Amy took that one last step around the corner and into the doorway.

"Oh, you're here," Kay said pleasantly when she saw Amy in the doorway. The man who was the source of the voice sitting on the leather sofa, and glanced up at Amy blankly. "I know I was going to introduce you two tomorrow, but there's no better time like the present. This --"

"Actually, Kay, we've met," Amy said flatly, the ice water in her belly turning to gasoline as she put the match to it. "Hello, Angier."

"I'm sorry?" Angier said, looking up from the briefcase as he closed it. "You must have me mistaken for someone else. We've never had the pleasure."

"Oh, we've met, alright. Though I wouldn't exactly call it a pleasure today." Amy walked into the office, blood pounding in her ears. "You've gotten a little grayer on top and put on a little around the middle, but I _definitely _remember you, and we've _definitely _met."

"Well, then, miss, I would appreciate it if you would refresh my memory," Angier said politely, standing up and looking Amy in the eye.

"Nineteen seventy one. There was an fraternity party at the Rho Delta Psi house for the prospective Bromwell freshmen that spring. As I recall, you were showing off a brand new Corvette Stingray at the time. Pretty proud of yourself, too." Amy watched Angier's face change as he dredged up the old memories. "You remember now? Young girl about twenty? My hair was a little shorter then, and a little lighter." Amy dipped her hand into her purse, pulled out her glasses and put them on. "And I wore a slightly heavier version of these a lot back then, too."

Warning bells were screaming in Angier's mind by now. He took a half a step backwards and looked Amy up and down as the fog of recognition slowly began to lift. Behind him, Kay was looking between Amy and Angier with an expression that was pure shock and confusion.

"Your parents had that boat, what was it called?" Amy asked rhetorically. "Oh yes, the _Mary Rose._ You were able to replace those two bottles of wine with out them knowing then, right?"

"Son of a--"

"Amy, wait a minute," Kay said, coming out from behind her desk. "What are you talking about?"

"We never did get much sleep that night, did we, Angie?" Amy went on turning the screws, ignoring Kay for the moment. "I believe the term you used that night was 'oops,' wasn't it? Then when I told you the doctor said I was pregnant, you said you 'didn't need a rug rat screwing things up,' didn't you?"

"Amy . . . _Barksdale??_" Angier said quietly, finally finding his voice as the pieces clicked home.

"Do you remember me now, 'Angie'?" Amy's voice practically dripped ice. "_Do you??_"

"Lady, you're nuts," Angier said flatly.

"Angie, what is going on?" Kay asked, somewhat desperate for an explanation of the drama playing itself out in her office. "What are you two talking about?"

"Kay, this was _long _before we had ever met. It's nothing you need to worry about. Really," Angier said to Kay, then turned back to Amy. "And as for you, you should of had brains enough in your head to be on the pill or something. You want to blame me for something that you didn't have sense enough to do --"

"I don't remember being the only one there that night, mister," Amy cut Angier off. "You had just as big a part in it as I did!"

"Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on here!" Kay almost shouted.

"It's simple, Kay," Amy said, looking Kay in the eye. "In seventy-one, your husband got me pregnant. When I told him, he said it wasn't his problem and walked out without so much as a backwards glance." Amy took a deep breath as her emotions began to overtake her. "Because your husband here wouldn't take responsibility for his actions, I felt the only choice that I had was to have the pregnancy aborted. Due to complications from that procedure, I can't ever have children."

"And how is that _my _fault?" Angier shot back.

"I'm not entirely blameless, Angier, but you sure as hell aren't innocent either!" Amy turned back on Angier. "You're son's a bigger man than you are, you worthless sack of grits! He's at least trying to do the right thing by Daria, despite your interference! _He's not trying to screw over my niece like you did me!!"_

"Who?" Angier blinked.

Amy spun around and practically ran out of the office, tearing her glasses off of her face and stuffing them back in her purse. She choked back a sob and, when she hit the corridor, broke into as fast as a run as her blurred vision would allow. She hadn't broken down like this in years. But then, she'd never had to face this particular demon in years, either.

Back in the office, Kay's shocked brain was still trying to catch up with what had just happened. Angier, for his part, was dealing with it with nauseating indifference. He shook his head and picked up his briefcase from the sofa.

"That woman's nuts, Kay," Angier said with a chuckle. "Twenty years gone by and she's got the gall to blame me. You believe that garbage?"

"Angie, what --?" Kay started to ask.

"Kay, honey," Angier said as he put his free hand on his wife's shoulder and gave her a peck on the cheek before walking out. "I promise, I'll tell you all about it tonight. But right now I've got to make sure that these people don't fast talk their way into a free ride they don't deserve. Whoever they are."

__

Her niece, Kay thought, not having heard anything that her husband said after he walked out the door. She closed her eyes and tried to get her mind to work through the shock to make a connection that she knew was important. Then it hit her.

"Daria is Amy's niece," Kay whispered to her empty office, and all the pieces fell into place with a nearly audible click. Then, at the top of her lungs, Katherine Sloane said a word that she hadn't used since it had gotten her mouth washed out with dish soap when she was ten.

~~~~~~

A block and a half down and ten minutes later, in an expensive bar called Monet's_, _Amy Barksdale wiped her eyes on a bar napkin and tossed back the last of her double scotch. She was supposed to be heading towards the courthouse, but every time she thought about how Angier Sloane would be there, she would burst into tears again.

"The boy stood on the burning deck, his feet were full of blisters. He tore his pants on a rusty nail and now he wears his sister's," Amy whispered to her self for the fiftieth time. It wasn't helping.

"Beg pardon?" the bartender said.

"Don't beg, it's undignified." Amy's deadpan was extremely shaky. "And get me another, would you please?"

"Sure thing," the bartender said as he took the glass and headed down to the other end of the bar.

Amy grabbed another bar napkin off of the stack in front of her and blew her nose. Getting sauced had never helped before, and she knew that it wasn't going to help this time, either.

__

So why the hell are you doing it now?

"Amy?" Kay Sloane's voice said from behind her. Amy turned around to see Kay take a seat on the barstool next to her. "For a minute there, I didn't think I was going to find you."

"What are you doing here?" Amy asked as the bartender returned with her drink.

"Helen Morgendorffer is your sister," Kay said, pointing out the obvious.

"Freaking duh," Amy mumbled as she picked up her drink.

"Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you mention you knew Angie?"

"Because my sister is taking your family to court. I didn't think that it would help matters for you to knowingly be giving aid and comfort to the enemy. Besides, you didn't ask." Amy put down her glass without touching the contents.

"It never occurred to me to do so," Kay admitted with a shrug. "Tom only mentioned that Daria's aunt was in town. I never thought to make the connection."

"You've got a good kid there, Kay," Amy said, staring at the surface of her drink. "He's a hell of a lot better than his old man, no offense."

"Uh, none taken," Kay said as Amy picked up her glass and took a big sip of her drink.

"As for the other thing, I didn't even know that he was the same Angier Sloane from way back then either." Amy looked at the rocking surface of her drink again as she put the class back on the bar. "At least I hoped it wasn't."

"Amy, I know that this is going to be a hard thing to talk about, but I have to ask. What happened between you and Angier? The whole story, not the Cliff's notes version."

"The whole thing, hmm? You asked for it." Amy turned to the bar tender. "Double scotch for my friend, here."

"Right."

"Believe me, you're going to need it," Amy said to Kay, taking a deep breath before launching into her tale.

~~~~~~

It had been a long time since Helen had to try a case in Family Court. She'd had to study the procedures in law school, as well as several case studies, but that had been years ago. Thankfully, Ian was second chair, and the two of them had spent most of the morning going over the case and refreshing Helen's admittedly rusty memory of the procedures. And while Judge Burton tended to run a relatively informal courtroom, she was not one to be easily impressed either.

Tom and Daria both sat at the Morgendorffers table, both looking like they'd rather be somewhere else, particularly since Jake was sitting in the row immediately behind them, looking like he wanted to strangle Tom. On the Sloane side, Angier and Moore, his lawyer, were both looking smug. Back in the court room's small gallery, most of the principal players, as well as those summoned to testify were scattered. Jane, Trent, Quinn and Stacy, her mother in the row behind her, sat on the Morgendorffer's side of the room, making it obvious where their support lay, while Sandi and Linda Griffin and taken places on the Sloane side. Tom's sister Elsie sat on their father's side of the room next to the aisle, and about as far from the Griffin's as she could get and looking as though she would rather be someplace else altogether. There were a few others scattered throughout the room, mostly other students, in the company of their parents, all of whom had been subpoenaed by Helen and Ian.

The entire afternoon's proceedings had centered around refuting the story the Sloanes' had gotten hold of that said Daria had "met" with several boys over the course of a party one night. Tom had stipulated on the stand that the child was his, but with no paternity work to back it up, Moore made it out that Tom was simply being soft hearted. Sandi and Brooke's stories on the stand were quickly shot down by Stacy and her shorthand account of Brooke's conversation with Veronica, who had also been called in and had backed up Stacy. Various students that Stacy and Quinn had named had also testified that Daria had never been anywhere near the party in question. When Moore had tried to paint Daria as being promiscuous outside of their presence, the response had been varying versions of "yeah, right." Moore made a mistake by calling Jake to the stand when Helen wouldn't, but his ranting didn't help either side. Moore then tried to spin it his way by claiming that Jake had been coached to act that way on the stand.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I have never seen a more convoluted case of 'he said, she said' come through this courtroom in a long, long time," Judge Burton said from the bench. "Quite honestly, this whole thing plays out like it's some kind of teen-angst soap opera. Mrs. Griffin, if I were able to bring stiffer penalties for perjury, I would do so in a heartbeat. Your daughter has co-opted several people in a ridiculous attempt to derail Ms. Morgendorffer's and young Mr. Sloane's claims, all because she wanted to get back at Ms. Morgendorffer's sister for some imagined offense. This should have never left the walls of the lunch room, much less found its way into a courtroom. Personally, Mrs. Griffin, I recommend therapy. For both of you.

"Insofar as the actual meat of the case is concerned, there are items that are not so easy to dismiss. Though young Mr. Sloane has stipulated to being the father of Ms Morgendorffer's unborn child, and that she has also stipulated that he has been her only partner, there is a lack of actual laboratory work to back up either of those statements. In my opinion, that should have been the first thing on anyone's agenda, and why it was never carried out is beyond me." She flipped open a folder that was sitting on the bench top in front of her. "Mrs. Morgendorffer, I understand that you were the one who instigated these proceedings, and decided to argue your own case. It would seem that you have forgotten the old adage about a lawyer who represents themselves having a fool for a client."

"Your Honor, " Helen said, starting to stand up. "With all due respect --"

"Mrs. Morgendorffer, sit down. I am ruling on this case, and you are shutting up," Judge Burton interjected, causing Helen to slowly sink back into her seat. "This case was handled badly from the beginning on both sides with several key pieces of evidence being left out, most damming of which is the actual, documented paternity of this child. Though I am sure that Daria's word is golden with her parents, it would seem that Tom's is not. Therefore --"

"Your Honor, forgive my interruption, but would it be too late to address this court?"

Judge Burton looked up to see two women walking in through the double doors at the back of the room, one with short brown hair, the other with long wavy brown hair and wearing glasses.

"That depends, who would you be?" Burton asked.

"My name is Katharine Sloane. I'm Tom's mother." Kay walked down the aisle and stood between the two tables at the head of the courtroom. Behind her, Amy took a seat next to Jane.

"I'm not a big fan of courtroom theatrics, Mrs. Sloane, especially today. Make it good and make it brief."

"As you wish. The Sloanes are withdrawing their objections to Mrs. Morgendorffer's child support petition," Kay said calmly.

"_WHAT?!"_ Angier rocketed to his feet. "Kay, what the hell are you doing? Have you flipped?"

"Order!" Judge Burton rapped her gavel on the counter. "Mr. Sloane, take your seat!"

"Angier, you were a total bastard before, and I'm not about to see history repeat itself," Kay said to her husband before turning to Helen. "I take it that the original amount you specified when this whole thing got started will still suffice?"

"Uh . . ." Helen, for the first time in a while, was speechless. 

"Kay, what the hell has gotten into you?" Angie asked loudly, ignoring the judge's order and walking over to face his wife down.

"I just had a long and detailed conversation with Amy about what happened back then," Kay rasped through a clenched jaw so that only Angier could hear. "And you and I are going to have another long and detailed conversation about that as well."

"Kay!" Angier turned to his lawyer. "Roger, do something!

"Katharine, you're making a scene," Moore said from his seat, trying to maintain some dignity. "Let the judge --"

"Mr. Moore, you're fired," Kay snapped at the attorney, then looked back up at the Judge, who had given up trying to calm things down for the moment. "Your Honor?"

"Now just a second!" Angier said.

"Angie, shut up."

"Who am I to argue with the absurd?" Burton shook her head. "With the objection withdrawn, I order that the specified amount of support for the child of Tom Sloane and Daria Morgendorffer be paid in full over a time period not to exceed two years from this date." Judge Burton banged her gavel one last time. "Case Closed. And you do realize you're getting the bill for court costs?"

"I'll deliver the check myself," Kay said with a nod.

"Good. Now everybody get the hell out of my court room," Burton said as she stood up and started to walk out. "You people are giving me a headache."

~~~~~~

Outside the court house, the various players in the case of Morgendorffer v. Sloane filed out and down the steps. Daria, Tom, and Jane grouped together while Trent continued down to the parking lot across the street to get his car. Other groups were forming as people passed each other on the steps.

"Well, ya did it, baby face," Jane said to Daria, slinging her arm over her friend's shoulder. "What's your secret?"

"Fancy footwork and clean living," Daria said, looking uncomfortable at Jane's public display. "Well, fancy footwork, anyway."

"And here I was hoping it was the secret to what the just happened in that court room," Elsie said as she came down the stairs and walked up to the group.

"No kidding. I thought she was about to rule against us," Tom said, getting a cocked eyebrow from his sister. "Not that I was comfortable with the whole thing to begin with, mind you."

"Me neither," Daria said. Then she frowned as something crossed her mind.

"What?" Jane asked, seeing the look.

"I just thought of something." Daria looked at Tom. "Your mother came in with Aunt Amy."

"Yeah. Coincidence." Tom shrugged.

"And pulled the objection to the petition," Daria said. "Remember the conversation we had with Aunt Amy the night my parents found out I was pregnant?"

"Yeah. I still don't see . . . where . . ." Tom looked over to where Helen, and Kay were standing and chatting. He watched as Amy walked out of the building and down to the pair steps. "Wait, you don't mean . . ."

"It makes sense," Daria said, also watching her aunt.

"Hoo boy!" Tom whistled.

"What?" Elsie asked, looking from Daria to Tom. "Is this about why mom was so pissed? What is it?"

"Let's just say that Thanksgiving is going to be a _lot _more tense than usual this year."

"Tom --"

"Daria!"

Hearing her name called out, Daria turned and saw Jodie quickly climbing the courthouse steps towards where she was standing.

"Jodie?" Daria walked down a couple of steps to meet her. "What's going on?"

"I talked to the people my parents know on the Board of Education," Jodie said, coming to a stop.

"And?" Daria asked hopefully.

"No luck." Jodie shook her head. "They said pretty much the same thing that you did at lunch the other day: that it's a legitimate assignment to make up for lost credits, no matter how nauseating the subject is."

"Terrific!" Jane threw her hands in the air, while Daria looked down at her boots. "Now what?"

"Now I do what I should have been smart enough to do a week ago," Daria sighed. "Talk to my lawyer."

"I've got to be at the congressman's office," Jodie said as she headed back down the steps. "Good Luck!"

"Yeah," Daria turned towards the little group that her mother was in. "I'm gonna need it."

~~~~~~

"Katharine, I --" Helen started to say to Kay as Amy walked up to them.

"Helen, this really isn't the best time," Kay said with a sigh. "And you can call me Kay, if you like. We're going to be grandmothers, after all."

"All right, Kay, then. But there's something that I don't understand," Helen said. "Why pull the objection? The case was completely fouled up. The judge was about to rule against us, even a blind man could see that coming. You would have won in a walk!"

"Your sister and I -- a bit of information I didn't know till about an hour ago, by the way --had a long conversation in Monet's." Kay looked at Amy, then back to Helen. "She told me everything about what happened, including the fact that she can't have children," Kay explained.

"A sad story to be sure, but surely you didn't pull out just because you feel sympathetic towards Amy!"

"Helen, when I say she told me everything, I suspect that she told me one particular detail that she hasn't told you even after all this time -- the name of the man who got her pregnant." Kay looked Helen in the eye, an earnest expression on her face.

"His name? No, she . . ." 

"His name was Angier Sloane," Amy said.

Kay simply nodded.

"Dear God!" Helen blinked as if a flashbulb had gone off in her face.

"Evidently, it all happened a few months before he and I met. He seemed so sweet back then. And driven. If I had only known what had happened before . . . Well, hindsight and all that. Besides, Grandpa Maxwell taught us to take responsibility for what happens when we screw up. He didn't say it quite so politely, though." Kay sighed. "I let myself be convinced that all this was deliberate."

"So, this is reparations for what happened with Angier and Amy?" Helen asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Helen, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, okay?" Amy said tiredly.

"Well . . . I suppose you're right." Helen sighed. "I could use a drink."

"Not me, I'm afraid. Unfortunately, I have a few other pressing matters that need to be dealt with." Kay looked back up the courthouse stairs and found Angier walking out of the big doors of the building. "If you'll excuse me."

"Of course, Kay," Helen said as Kay started back up the steps and towards her husband. "I hope that they're going to be all right."

"It's a society marriage, Helen." Amy observed. "At the end of the day, they're more interested in the bottom line of their bank book. They'll not talk to each other for a week, and afterwards you'll never know that anything was wrong."

"God, that's sad."

"Tell me about it."

"Mom?" Helen heard Daria call out, and turned around to see her daughter walking towards her, with Jane and the Sloane siblings in tow.

"What is it, sweetie?" Helen asked.

"Hi, Amy," Daria said to her aunt as she walked up. "Sorry to interrupt, Mom, but I figured that you might want to hear about this while you still had your momentum up."

"Hear about what, Daria?"

"It's about an assignment Ms Li gave me as a make-up for the Phys Ed credits that I won't be getting."

"Since when are you worried about a little extra credit work?" Helen was confused.

"Since it involves social suicide," Jane said from behind Daria.

"What?" Now Helen was even more confused.

"Let's just go, Mom," Daria said. "You can drop me off at Jane's and I'll explain along the way."

~~~~~~~

Movies and an enormous victory pizza had been the order of the evening for Daria, Jane and Tom. Elsie had tagged along, having avoided going back to the Sloane household, where the opening salvo in what looked to be an epic argument between Kay and Angier was being fired, and had promptly gagged at Daria's choice of pizza toppings. Tom had turned a little green too, but he gamely picked the pineapple out of his sausage and mushrooms and passed them on to Daria, who ate the whole thing with gusto. That had sparked a conversation on the subject of the grossest pizza that occupied them till _Sick, Sad World_ polished off their night.

Trent had made a brief appearance, grabbing a slice of pizza and scarfing it down, pineapple and all, while getting his guitar from his room and heading out to set up for the gig at the Zon. On the way in and out, he had given Tom a dirty look, but didn't stop to really explain. Jane had no real idea either, and Tom wrote it off to the stress of the last couple of days.

An hour later, as Tom, Daria, and Elsie were about to leave, Trent had called from the club saying that he had forgotten their lyric book, and could Janey bring it over? Tom volunteered to deliver the book after they dropped Daria off at home, since he and Elsie had to go past that part of town anyway.

"This place is called The Zon?" Elsie asked as Tom swung onto Degas Street.

"Yup," he said as he spotted the club in the distance. "Don't worry, I've been there before. It's pretty tame."

"Says you," Elsie said. "Hanging out in grunge clubs is your thing, not mine."

"Well, then wait in the car. I just have to run in and give this to Trent, anyway. It should only be a couple of minutes." Tom spotted a parking spot about a half a block away from the place and angled the old Jag in its direction.

"Well, don't take too long," Elsie said. "This neighborhood even creeps me out in the daylight."

"Just lock the door, and you'll be fine," Tom said as he pulled the car into the spot and bumped up against the curb. "I'll even leave the engine running in case you want to make a fast, if futile escape, okay?"

"Oh thanks, I feel so much better," Elsie said as Tom grabbed the beat up binder off of the seat and climbed out.

The crowd hadn't built up to any appreciable degree yet, so Tom had no problems getting inside the club. He spotted Trent and the rest of the band up on stage, tuning up and checking their instruments and microphones. A thin brunette dressed in Goth ware was working a mixing board next to the stage as Tom walked up.

"Check one, check two," Trent was saying into the mike as Tom was walking up. "What do you think, Monique?"

"Sounds as good as it's going to get," the woman answered. "Toldja you needed new mikes."

"Yeah, well," Trent said as he stepped away from the mic and saw Tom walk up. "Hey. Where's Janey?"

"She said she wanted to get a couple of hours in on some special project that she was working on, so I volunteered to bring your book over after I dropped Daria off," Tom explained.

"Nothing better to do?" Trent asked with a glare. "Like takin' care of Daria, maybe?"

"Trent, she's home. With her parents, such as they are," Tom said as he handed the book over.

"Yeah, at least they're takin' care of their kids," Trent said as took the book and handed it to Max, then stepped off of the stage. "But, then, it's not like Daria has a whole lot to look forward to now, thanks to you, is it?"

"What are you talking about? She won the child support from my parents," Tom explained, though he was wondering where all this hostility was coming from. "The bills will be taken care of, and there'll be plenty left over. What's the problem?"

"What's the problem? You think that just because your Mom threw a bunch of money around that everything's going to be just swell, don't you?" Trent said, walking up to Tom and glairing down at him. "Throw a little cash around, and everything's cool, isn't it?"

"Trent, what the hell are you talking about?" Tom asked, frowning and taking a step back. Trent's breath smelled of beer.

"This isn't going to turn out good," Max said as he heard what Trent and Tom were saying.

"Tell me about it," Monique replied.

Monique, Jesse, Nick, and Max watched as Trent and Tom squared off in the middle of the club, beginning to attract more attention to themselves.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" Trent shouted into Tom's face. "Daria had plans for her future! She wanted to go to college and have a real career, dammit! How's she supposed to do that now?"

"You don't think that I know that? She's going to have more help than she knows what to do with when the baby comes! She can still go to college and have a career!"

"And be a mother at the same time? Look at Daria's Mom and tell me _that _works!" Trent glowered. "You shoulda just kept your freaking pants on, kid."

"I don't believe this! It was an accident! A one in a million chance that something could've happened and you're treating me like I did this deliberately!" Tom had finally lost his cool and was nose to nose with the musician. "You're talking like you think that it's just Daria that's going to be affected here! Well, there's a baby involved too, hot shot."

"Yeah, there is! And I bet you got enough money to handle that too, don't ya? Just pass the kid off to a baby sitter when you don't want to deal with it, or private school, or a nanny or something like that, right? Throw enough money at the problem and it'll go away, right?"

"No! It . . . Dammit, Trent, I am _trying_ to take my share of the responsibility for all of this, but no one wants to believe me! I get naked hostility from Jake when ever I show up to take Daria to school or to her appointments, Helen's been on my folks' back because of this child support stuff, and _my_ parents were ragging on me because I _won't_ leave it alone and forget about it! _What the hell is it you people want me to do!!?"_

At that point, both of them started shouting at once, yelling in each others' faces from point blank range. They would have kept it up for a good long while, but the bouncer came up to the two arguing youths and shoved them apart.

"Take it _outside!!_" the bouncer yelled, stopping the argument momentarily.

"Fine!!" Tom and Trent roared back, causing the bouncer to blink in surprise.

Both of the young men stomped out of the club. The crowd parted in front of the two like water around the bow of a ship. Monique and the rest of Mystic Spiral followed then at a distance, with a small crowd of curious onlookers behind them.

As the two passed out of the door and walked out onto the sidewalk, Tom turned around to continue their discussion -- and was totally blindsided by the hammer-like punch that Trent had thrown. Tom was spun around and stumbled a couple of paces before falling to one knee. He checked his lip with the back of his hand for blood.

"I just stood around and watched as you burned Janey, and damn near Daria too when you went behind Jane's back," Trent said, fists clenched, ready for a fight. "Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to stand around and watch you do that to Daria, especially now!"

"Damn," Tom muttered, seeing blood on his hand. He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't started this. He was just doing a favor for Jane before going home. But now . . . "This is going to be one long freakin' night."

Tom pushed himself up from his knee and turned back on Trent. He lead with a right hook as he turned, and the fight was on.

Monique and the band watched from the club door as the two went at it. The spectators began egging on which ever was their favorite at the moment, or just whooped it up when ever a particularly solid blow was landed.

"Maybe we should do something?" Jesse suggested.

"Nah, let 'em go, man," Max said with a shake of his head. "They both got issues."

They were quiet for a moment while they stood and watched the fight.

"Ah, hell," Monique said, reaching down and pulling a camouflage wallet out of one boot. "Ten bucks on that Tom kid. Any takers?"

"I'll take that," Nick said, pulling his own wallet out. "Trent's got six inches reach over him."

"Yeah, but he hasn't got the staying power," Max said, digging into his front pocket. "Ten on Tom."

"Dude, you don't know Trent," Jesse said as he came up with ten of his own.

All four winced in unison as an obviously painful blow landed on someone.

"Ooh," Monique said, putting a hand to her lips. "Ouch."

"Damn, that's gonna leave a mark in the morning," Max commented, as sirens were heard in the distance.

to be continued

**__**

Author's Notes:

Not much in the way of notes this time around. The hardest part was coming up with a title for this episode, so I enlisted the help of those gracious denizens of the PPMB to assist me in choosing a title. You already know the winner (unless you read stories in reverse), so here's the rest of the candidates and the results of the voting.

HEARTS BURNED -- Roger E. Moore **40% **[ 8 ] 

WOMANLY ATTRIBUTES -- Robert Nowall **10% **[ 2 ] 

EASEL FUEL -- Brandon Lague **35% **[ 7 ]

HEARTS & BRIDGES BURNED -- Greystar **10% **[ 2 ]

ART BURN & OTHER TUMMY TROUBLES -- Greystar's missus **5% **[ 1 ]

Also, I couldn't have done any of this without the help of the Beta Readers in no particular order) --ajzin, Been Breeck, Robert Nowall, Roger E. Moore, Crusading Saint, Scarlett, and Betting on Delusions. Thank You all for making this story more than it was when I started it.

As always, there's an open invasion the artistic types out there to do any fan-art based on my works. Any questions, comments, or whatever can be sent to Greystar@hotmail.com.

See ya next time!


	7. A Tale of Two T's

**__**

Synopsis: Quinn is on the hunt for a steady boyfriend, while at the same time trying to find out why Sandi has gone so cold towards the Fashion Club. Daria finds out that Trent and Tom have gotten in a fight, and discovers a side to "The Tom Thing" that she hadn't before. And Helen plans a reconciliation dinner with Tom, only to have Jake and a squirrel bring the whole thing toppling down.

**__**

Author's Forward: I am rating the following story PG-13 for content. The subject matter deals with teen pregnancy. I am not an advocate of teen pregnancy, and firmly believe that common sense should prevail in such cases. However, real life being what it is, this is not always the case.

The following story was written for entertainment purposes only, and _should not _be taken as educational material. I do not claim that the "technical" aspects of my story are even remotely accurate. If you have any questions, go to a responsible adult knowledgeable in the appropriate areas.

**__**

Other Notes: The author assumes that the reader is familiar with "Daria" and the characters therein, and has read my previous stories. This story is seventh in the series and takes place concurrent with the events portrayed in "One J At A Time."

**__**

Legal Drek: Daria and her cohorts are property of MTV and Viacom.

This story is Copyright October 23, 2004.

Daria

in

A Tale of Two T's

By Greystar

**Monday**

Finally, Daria mused as she sat at the kitchen table. _Finally, finally, finally things are getting back to normal around here. 'Normal' being a relative term, of course. I'm pregnant, mom's on a forced vacation, and dad's only slightly less touchy than usual. It could always be worse, I suppose._

Daria glanced around the kitchen and hoped that her wandering thoughts wouldn't be the catalyst that would incur one Mr. Murphy's most famous law. So far, though, that didn't seem to be the case. Jake was at the kitchen island, shoveling some kind of odd looking sauce from a pan onto a large bowl full of noodles, while Helen and Daria sat at the table, listening to Quinn talk about something she had seen on television.

Helen, for the first time in three weeks, wore her more casual clothes and looked more relaxed than she had in a long time. She seemed to be enjoying her leave of absence from the law firm, a leave taken when Eric put her on the spot, and asked which was more important: her job or her family. Helen had made the right choice, leaving Eric high and dry. She also figured that she deserved the time off, after coming out the victor in a hard-fought, and almost massively bungled, child-support case against the Sloane family. That case had also yanked up a deeply buried part of her sister Amy's past.

Daria's Aunt Amy, for her part, had returned home for a few days seeking a vacation from her self-appointed job assisting Daria when help was needed. She needed time to get her own head back together and deal with loose ends of her life had cropped up over the last few months back home. Amy promised to be back after ten days or so, and Jane had gave her word to look after Daria in Amy's stead, which Jane would have done anyway.

"So, anyway, this new FashionVision series, _Behind the Untold Stories of the Supermodels_, reveals what their lives were like when they were just plain models," Quinn was explaining to Daria and Helen.

Daria's return comment was preempted by Jake proudly dropping the big bowl of noodles and sauce onto the middle of the table. Helen and Quinn looked at the concoction with trepidation. Daria felt her stomach curl up in a ball at the sight of . . . whatever it was.

"Thai Peanut Sauce a la Jake is complete-o!" Jake smiled with pride at his latest culinary masterpiece. "Who wants the first bite?"

"You pick, mom. It'll be like _Sophie's Choice_," Daria said. _Or maybe _Schindler's List_ would be more appropriate._

"Don't worry, this is a whole different recipe from the last batch," Jake said as he dropped a large spoonful of noodles and sauce on Quinn's plate. She just regarded the pile with a wrinkled nose and scrunched eyebrows.

"Jake, I thought we talked about this. Daria can't handle some of the things that you try to make." Helen said with a critical look at dinner. "Besides, the last time you made this, it took three days to get the smell out of the house."

"Experiment with a little wasabi and the whole world's a critic," Jake sighed, looking at the ceiling, then back at his wife. "Dammit, Helen, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs!"

"Can I have an omelet?" Daria asked hopefully, though her voice didn't show it.

"No, the last thing that you need is the cholesterol," Helen said flatly.

"Then how about some eggs to break?"

"_Anyway_," Quinn butted back in. "They were just about to show Veronique's make-up bag from high school when the delivery guy rang the door bell with Daria's package," Quinn said with a dejected shrug. "What is with those brown uniforms?"

Daria looked up from the large helping of noodles and sauce that Jake had deposited on her plate.

"Quinn, this package? Did it run away by itself or hop a lonesome freight train west?"

"Oh, it's out in the living room somewhere," Quinn said with a wave in the general direction of that part of the house. "Now I'm never going to find out what was in that make-up bag!"

Daria allowed herself about a tenth of a second's grief for her sister before she pushed herself away from the table. Jake was dishing up and sitting down as Daria walked away from the table. She noticed that it was taking more effort to pull herself up out of a chair recently. Sooner or later, she'd need assistance just to get up, and she didn't want to think about what a typical day at school was going to be like at all.

Spotting her package on the table by the door, Daria went to pick it up. The return address was the Sloane's, with Tom's name on it. Her curiosity piqued, Daria opened the envelope with her thumb as she walked back towards the kitchen. Reaching inside she pulled out a large hardbound book, its title lettered in slightly battered gold leaf: _Three Hundred Years of Verse_,

Wow, Daria thought. _He actually found it._

"EWWW! Dad's sick!" Quinn yowled in disgust from the kitchen, breaking into Daria's thoughts.

Daria looked up and frowned. Apparently, Jake had tried to eat his own cooking. Daria then went back to reading her book.

Daria remembered seeing this particular book in a movie she had once watched with Tom very early on in their relationship. The next day, they had tried to locate the collection of poetry at the library and at the local book stores. Lawndale being what it was, they were unable to find anything.

"What is _that?"_ Quinn's voice once again intruded into Daria's thoughts as she drifted back into the kitchen.

"My people call them books," Daria said as she flipped open the cover and skimmed the title page. "Hunh. A first edition. Tom must have found it on the Web."

"Oh, how sweet!" Helen exclaimed as she removed a rock-hard lasagna from the freezer. She put the frozen tray on the counter and looked at the book over Daria's shoulder for a moment.

"He bought you a _used_ book?" Quinn said. "What kind of boyfriend _is _he?"

"The kind of boyfriend who knows what's important to Daria," Helen said as she put the frozen tray in the oven and turned the heat to about four-fifty.

"Great, now I'm sick," Daria groaned.

Behind the two women, Jake continued to pour the contents of his failed dinner into the trash. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from going off at the mention of Tom Sloane. He had promised Helen that he would try and give the boy a break, but if was damn difficult. In his anger, Jake shook the bowl a little too hard and noodles splattered over the side of the trash can. Jake bit his cheek harder and picked the noodles off the floor without saying anything.

"Lots of guys care about me, you know," Quinn was saying. "I don't know why anybody would settle for just one."

"Excuse me?" Daria looked up from her book and gave Quinn a cold stare. "Care to elaborate on that?"

"Uh, well, I don't mean for _that_," Quinn stammered, realizing what she'd just said. "I mean, well -- you know what I mean, Daria!"

"Fortunately for you, yes," Daria said icily. Quinn sheepishly turned back to the table and took a sip of water to wash the taste of her foot out of her mouth.

"Quinn, it's a special thing to find someone so compatible that you want to, uh, _see_ them exclusively, among, uh, other things." Helen got a cold eye from her eldest daughter, but continued. "Anyway, having a steady boyfriend takes maturity and perspective!"

"Really," Daria said dryly. Helen slumped.

"But, I'm mature!" Quinn whined as she turned around in her chair.

"Yeah, and you've got the teddy bear earrings to prove it. Which reminds me, can I borrow them? They go so well with my lack of credibility around here."

"Daria, you're right. I'm sorry." Helen sighed. "We really haven't had a chance to make up to you and Tom for everything that's happened. Why don't you invite him over for dinner?"

"Because I haven't taken complete leave of my senses," Daria replied as she closed her book.

"Can I bring a boyfriend too?" Quinn asked hopefully.

In his corner of the kitchen, Jake let the bowl slip from his fingers and land on the counter top with a loud _clunk!_ All three Morgendorffer women looked in his direction with varying degrees of curiosity. Jake frowned and made himself very busy tying the top of the trash bag closed.

"If and when you have a steady boyfriend," Helen said slowly, turning back to Quinn. "We'd love to have him for dinner."

"Do we have to dip him in that peanut sauce before we eat him?" Daria asked blandly.

"Hey!" Jake stood up, indignantly pulling the trash bag from the can.

"So, what night would be good for Tom?" Helen asked, ignoring Jake for the moment.

"Anytime after Armageddon is fine."

"Sheesh!" Jake threw his free hand in the air and started for the laundry room door. "I slave all day over a hot stove and for what?"

Daria looked sidelong at her mother and waited until Jake had definitely left the room.

"It's to keep him off the streets, right?"

* * *

**Tuesday**

"So, explain to me why we're walking to school?" Jane asked as she and Daria were walking down the sidewalk the next morning. "I thought Tom's been driving you these days, what with your condition and all."

"He said his car was in the shop when I called him this morning," Daria replied. "It ought to be fixed in a few days, which should be all the time I need to talk mom out of having him over for dinner."

"What's she planning to serve with him? White wine goes so well with human flesh." Jane said with a smirk, then looked at the expression her friend was giving her. "Sorry. So your mother actually invited him over for dinner?"

"I know, some workaholic. I think this leave of absence is getting to her. She seems to think she has to make it up to Tom and me for all the crap they've put us through."

"Once your father gets started on military school, the evening will be over before it begins," Jane said with a shake of her head. It seemed that Helen might actually be coming around. Too bad the same couldn't be said for Jake.

"What I'm afraid of is a blood bath, not just a spoiled evening."

"What?" Jane looked over at Daria. "You're worried about more than just simple embarrassment here, aren't you?"

"Any time the subject of Tom gets mentioned, you can see my dad's hackles go up." Daria brought them both to a stop and turned to face Jane. "Up until recently, he's been following Tom and me whenever he drives me to school. Every time Quinn goes out on a date, he's on them like a KGB interrogator. I mean, you saw how he was on the stand in court."

"Hmm, I guess I see your point."

"Tom deserves better than a night of verbal abuse." Daria resumed walking and Jane fell in step beside her without effort. "I know that mom's trying to make things better, but . . ."

"You're afraid that your dad's just going to make things worse?" Jane asked.

"I'm afraid that he's not even going to try," Daria shrugged. "Tom's been the one making all the effort and all Dad seems to be doing is trying to drive him off."

"Don't worry about Tom, he's tougher than he looks," Jane said, not believing that she was actually saying it. "Besides, he never had any problems at all with my parents."

"He's never met your parents," Daria pointed out.

"Yeah, there is that." Jane was quiet for a moment. "I don't suppose that you could convince your father to go off to Greece for six months to sketch the sunsets?"

"Not likely."

"You could be blowing this whole thing out of proportion, you know."

"Proportion. I get it." Daria looked down at her stomach, which she thought she could see pushing against the inside of her jacket, and sighed.

"Daria . . ."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe my dad'll be relatively calm and collected and the evening will go smoothly and a good time will be had by all." Daria's tone of voice, however, suggested that she expected pigs to take wing long before that happened.

"You're going to 'forget' to tell Tom and hope this whole thing goes away, aren't you?" Jane asked, though she suspected that she already knew the answer.

"Believe me, Jane," Daria put her hand on her stomach. "If it was possible, I would have already forgotten."

* * *

"So, what is the current situation with Ms. Morgendorffer?" Angela Li asked, looking up from the folder open on her desk.

Dr. Margaret Manson, psychologist and councilor for Lawndale High looked down at the last folder on her lap and opened it.

"The Morgendorffer girl seems to be dipping somewhat from her established baseline of behavior." Manson pulled her glasses down her nose slightly. "Going by information gathered in our previous sessions, it would indicate that she is becoming less defensive than normal."

"Could this signal a general shift in her attitude?" Li asked, making notes.

"Perhaps," Manson said slowly.

"For the better?" Li asked with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

"Not necessarily, Angela." Manson was cautious. Li's ideas about what kinds of attitudes the students should maintain for the good of the school were rather specific. "While Ms Morgendorffer's previous aberrant behavior --"

"Margaret, I'll not have the harmonious learning environment that I've tried to establish around here be disrupted by non-conformists and malcontents." Li made more notes in her folder. "Perhaps a trip through Mr. O'Neill's Self Esteem Workshop would be beneficial to Ms Morgendorffer."

"Are you sure that Mr. O'Neill is equipped to handle this?"

"Hm. Perhaps you're right. Adjust your schedule to accommodate the workshop." Li was about to continue, but stopped suddenly when she heard the door to her office open.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" Helen Morgendorffer asked as she stepped into the room.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Morgendorffer! No, not at all!" Li quickly slapped the folder in front of her closed and stuffed it under the pile of similar folders off to her side. Manson closed her own and covered it with her hands, though more sedately. "Merely discussing school policy matters."

"Yes, of course," Helen said as she walked up to Ms Li's desk. She didn't buy her fake cheerfulness for a second. "If you have a few minutes, there's something I'd like to talk to you about. Regarding school policy, actually."

"Mrs. Morgendorffer," Li said as Helen started going through her briefcase. "I am actually quite busy, as you can see, and matters of school policy are best brought up before the school board."

"More specifically, having to do with _your _policy regarding students attending classes under special circumstances." Helen went on as though Ms. Li had never spoken. She pulled out a folder and looked it over once as she took the empty chair beside Manson.

"Really."

"Yes, for example, whereas a particular female student has become pregnant. There is a wide range of physical and hormonal changes that she would be going through that would make it inappropriate for her to be performing certain activities. Also her teachers would have to be advised that certain . . . assignments may not be appropriate material for a particular amount of time."

"Really," Li said again.

"You sound like you claim to be an expert in these things, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Manson said, looking over her glasses at Helen.

"Well, I have given birth to two daughters." Helen cocked her eyebrow at Manson. "Actually, I'm surprised that you hadn't brought these subjects to Ms Li's attention, Dr. Manson."

"I'm a psychologist, madam, not a teacher. I'm not privy to what the faculty assigns the students over the course of the semester."

"Well, Ms Li is." Helen turned back to the principal with a cold look. "And I would think that she would be a little more tactful in the special assignments that she hands out."

"Now, really, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Li began to say. "I don't believe that --"

"For example, this assignment given to my daughter in order to maintain her physical education requirements." Helen held up the folder and opened it up to the synopsis page on top. "'Write an editorial article on the failure of the scholastic sexual education system to prevent teen aged pregnancy and reduce promiscuity among teens. Include your personal views on how these changes to the system could have assisted in preventing your current condition and preventing others from making similar mistakes in the future.' Care to explain?"

"That assignment is meant to maintain the student's grade point average in Physical Education, as well as educate the readers of our school newspaper to what may be gaps in our scholastic system."

"'_Your _personal views,' '_your _current condition,'" Helen repeated.

"It is an editorial, after all. The reporter is intended to include their personal opinions."

"Ms. Li, this assignment was specifically tailored to draw undue, negative attention to Daria in what I believe to be the first moves in a blatant attempt to force her out of Lawndale High."

"Mrs. Morgendorffer, I can assure you that is not --"

"I've spoken with Carrie Landingham. And her parents." Helen fixed Li with a glare. "That is _exactly_ what you are attempting to do. State policy forbids outright suspension in these circumstances, and you are trying to worm your way around it. Again."

"Mrs. Morgendorffer," Li said slowly as she drew herself up in her chair. "Your daughter getting pregnant sets a horrendous example to her fellow female students that must be quashed at once! I have no intention of seeing Lawndale High become a teenage obstetrics ward!"

"Let me put this another way, Ms Li," Helen said, slowly standing up and leaning on the edge of the desk to look down at the principal. "_Get off my daughter's back._ The Landinghams didn't have the resources to bring a suit against you, but I do. If I get one, and I mean _one_, hint that Daria is not being treated in the same way as she was before she became pregnant, I'll have you up in front of the Board of Education so fast you'll have whiplash."

"Wha --? How dare you threaten me!" Li stammered as Helen snatched the folder and her briefcase up and headed for the door.

"You think I'm bluffing?" Helen turned back to face Li. "This isn't a poker game on some rickety river boat, Ms. Li, this is my daughter we're talking about. _You just freaking try me_."

* * *

Quinn, Stacy and Tiffany sat at their usual table with their three salads and vinaigrette dressing on the side. The one thing that was out of place was Sandi. She was sitting one table away on the opposite side of the aisle, attacking her own salad with more anger than enthusiasm.

"Doesn't she know we're having a meeting?" Tiffany asked in her slow cadence.

"Yeah, she does," Quinn said. She looked at her friend in her self-imposed exile and shook he head sadly. "She started acting like that when I asked her about having it."

"Why is that, do you think?" Stacy asked.

"I don't know, Stacy. I think that she might still be mad about what happened in that courtroom."

"Really?"

"Buuuut, that was Friday," Tiffany said with a frown. "Why is she still mad about that?"

"I wish I knew, Tiffany. I really wish I knew." Quinn sighed and looked back at her plate. "Well, I suppose we should get this meeting started."

"Without Sandi?" Stacy whispered.

"Well . . ." Quinn turned and looked at the Fashion Club President. "Sandi? We're gonna start the meeting."

"So? What are you telling me for?" Sandi said icily, then looked the other direction.

"Well, you _are _the club's president," Stacy pointed out, trying to be helpful.

"Oh really?" Sandi glared. "Looks like you're doing just fine with your _vice_ president. What do you need me for? Leave me alone."

"Eep!" Stacy squeaked and shrunk in her seat.

"Um, well, okay then, I guess." Quinn turned back to the other two girls. All three looked equally worried. "Okay, as the vice president of the Fashion Club, I hereby call this meeting to order, or whatever. I have an announcement that I want to make: I've decided to get a steady boyfriend."

Stacy and Tiffany looked at Quinn blankly for a moment.

"You . . . You mean, you're not joking with us?" Tiffany asked, looking confused.

"No, I'm not. It's a special thing to find someone so exclusive that you want to see them compatibly," Quinn said. _Or something like that._

"You mean you're only going to date one guy from now on? And not any other guy?" Tiffany asked with some surprise. "You're not going to get pregnant too, are you?"

"Tiffany!" Quinn sputtered. "Of course not! This is just dating!"

"Yeah, don't need another knocked up Morgendorffer," Sandi muttered loudly from her table.

Quinn glanced over her shoulder at Sandi, then turned back to the meeting and glowered at the table.

"Um . . .Yeah." Stacy and Tiffany exchanged a glance. "Anyway, Quinn, think of all the gifts and cash prizes you'll be missing out on!"

"Yeah, " Tiffany agreed. "Are you sure that you want to do this?"

"Yes, Tiffany, I am." Quinn looked up from the table and nodded.

"So, who's going to be your boyfriend?" Stacy asked.

"Uh . . . Gee. I haven't thought about that." Quinn looked surprised to be getting the question. "I just kind of thought I'd know, you know?"

"I know! Let's make a list of qualifications!" Stacy pulled her note pad out of her coat pocket and started making notes. "Like he has to be at least three inches taller than you and drive a car with a leather interior."

"No moles." Tiffany put in.

"And no self-respect," Sandi's voice cut in from the other table.

Quinn turned and looked over her shoulder to see Sandi angrily pushing her salad around her plate with her fork.

"Sandi, I'm being serious here. I want to get a steady boyfriend and I want to pick the right guy." Quinn decided it was time to try and offer an olive branch. "I could really use your help."

"Okay, here's a suggestion," Sandi sneered. "Why don't you start with the freshmen and work your way up. You ought to be through the whole class by the weekend."

Sandi tossed her fork onto her plate, got up and stormed out of the lunchroom, leaving her tray behind. In her wake, Stacy and Tiffany were looking confused, while Quinn looked angry and hurt.

"That was just so . . . wrong," Tiffany drawled.

"No kidding," Quinn replied, watching Sandi leave. _This isn't just wrong -- it's un-Sandi. And _that_ worries me.

* * *

_

After school, Jane had returned from walking Daria home to find Monique, Max, and Jesse sitting in the Lane kitchen. Their discussion centered about Monique's umpteenth rant about leaving the Harpies.

"I swear, I'm really gonna do it this time," Monique said as Jane walked in the kitchen. "I'm gonna start my own band, and the Harpies can go fish."

"How long have you been saying that?" Jesse asked. He looked up. "Hey, Jane."

"Hello, random freeloaders," Jane cheerfully replied. "What brings you here so early in the afternoon?"

"Waitin' on Trent, like usual," Monique said. "He's asleep."

"What else is new," Jane said as she dropped her backpack on the kitchen table and walked over to the refrigerator. "Last night run late?"

"Or early," Max put in.

"Whatever," Jane smirked as she opened the door and started rummaging through what little was there. "Hey, something I've been meaning to ask you guys. Someone in school was talking about a fight at the Zon on Friday night. You know anything about that?"

"Oh, yeah," Jesse said as he and Max started chuckling. "That's got to be a new record for us. We didn't even get tuned up."

"Really? I'll have to ask Tom if he saw or heard anything."

"Your boyfriend?" Jesse asked.

"Ex-boyfriend, actually. He's with Daria now." Jane looked suspiciously at a stack of cold cuts in plastic wrap, then closed the fridge and went in search of bread. "By the way, did he get the lyric book there in time?"

There was a long, silent moment as Monique, Max, and Jesse exchanged looks that went from questioning to worried realization. The silence dragged out long enough that Jane turned away from her snack construction to see if she had suddenly become the only one in the room.

"What?" Jane asked, seeing the expressions.

"You mean that guy who brought the lyric binder was _Daria's _Tom?" Monique asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Ooo boy. That's why I recognized him," Monique whispered.

"Man, no wonder Trent tore into him like that." Jesse shook his head. "Probably a good thing the cops showed up when they did."

"They still coulda waited a little bit, man," Max chuckled. "You'd've both owed me money."

"Uh, guys?" Monique looked from the two men to Jane and back again.

The expression on Jane's face was a mixture of shocked disbelief combined with building anger. Her cheeks and exposed right ear were turning an angry shade of red as her mind put together a theory on what had happened that Friday night.

"Just exactly what the hell happened Friday night?" Jane demanded.

Max gulped audibly. "Ya know, maybe we'd better go and get Trent," he suggested, sliding off his stool and heading for the doorway.

"Yeah," Jesse agreed, following close behind. "He's bound to be awake any time now."

They almost made it to the doorway before Jane shot across the kitchen, grabbed each of them by an ear and started pulling them back into the kitchen.

"OW! Janey, c'mon!" Jesse whined.

"AHH! That's my earring!" Max yelled.

"Get back in here!" Jane twisted her captive's earlobes in such a way that they had no choice.

"Jane, maybe --" Monique started.

"_Shut up!_" Jane snapped, shoving Jesse towards Monique.

"Man." Jesse rubbed his ear, wincing in pain.

"C'mere Francine!" Jane growled, yanking Max's face close to hers. "Are you telling me that Trent _started a fight_ with Tom?"

"Well, not really! I mean they were arguing inside first and --" Jane twisted his ear, hard. "OW!! Jane, come on!!"

"Jane," Monique calmly said. "Why don't you let go of Max and I'll try and tell you what happened, okay?"

Jane pushed Max in Jesse's general direction and looked harshly at the other woman. Max just rubbed his ear and wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Okay, start talking," Jane said flatly.

"All right," Monique began. "Trent was already in a rotten mood by the time we had gotten to the club to begin setting up. It looked like he'd already had a couple, but he wasn't saying anything about why he was so pissed. When your Tom showed up with the book, Trent just kinda . . ." She shrugged. "Well, he just kinda blew up."

"Just 'blew up,' " Jane echoed.

"Yeah. Tom tried to keep it cool, but, next thing they're yelling at each other, and the bouncer tells 'em to take it outside."

"And someone felt obliged to start throwing punches, right?" Jane put one hand on her hip. "Who hit who first?"

"Uh . . ." Max and Jesse looked at each other, while Monique looked at the counter-top.

"Don't bother." Jane's jaw ground as she stalked out of the kitchen. "I'll freaking _kill_ him!"

Jane thought she heard Monique call out behind, but she wasn't about to stop. She knew Trent was having problems dealing with Tom and Daria's situation, but she would have bet her eyeteeth that it would never have gone this far.

She stomped up the stairs two at a time, with every intention of waking her brother so he'd be fully conscious when she tore into him. She reached his door in four strides and shoved it open with a _slam_ that should have had anyone else clinging to the ceiling. Trent, asleep on the bed, didn't even twitch.

"Trent, wake up!" Jane yelled as she hit the light switch with the side of her fist.

"Hunh? Whazzit?" Trent mumbled from his bed.

"Tell me it isn't true, Trent!" Jane yelled. "Tell me that what the guys downstairs said isn't true!"

"Zizzntrue. Lemmesleep." HE started to roll over, but Jane wasn't finished. Oblivious to the junk on the floor, she crossed the room, grabbed Trent by the front of his shirt and yanked him upright.

"Whoa!" Trent blinked against the light.

The left side of Trent's face was sported a large bruise around his eye colored with blacks, blues, reds, and greens. For an instant, Jane was glad that Tom had got in at least one good shot.

"You bastard," Jane whispered.

"Janey, what the --?"

"Don't you 'Janey' me, you moron! I ought to sock you in your other eye!" Jane shouted into her brother's face. She let him go with a shove and started pacing around the room. "I don't believe you! I just don't freaking believe you!! Tom does a favor for me and you've got to turn it into an opportunity to start a bar brawl! How could you be so damn stupid!"

Aw, crap. "I didn't start anything. It just sort of . . . happened." Trent shrugged.

"Oh, it 'just happened,' did it? All of a sudden, for no reason, you guys are out in the street beating the crap out of each other?" Jane spun on Trent and threw her hands in the air. "You threw the first freaking punch and you've got the _cojones_ to tell me that you didn't start anything??"

"No, I didn't start anything -- he did! Well -- it's complicated. Look, Janey --"

"Don't!" Jane cut him off. "Don't you _dare_ call me 'Janey' right now! You may have done the dumbest thing imaginable, you know that? Tom and Daria are having enough problems right now and you've just gotta throw another one on the pile, don't you?" Jane started pacing again. "This is going to kill Daria, assuming she hasn't found out already."

"Jane, I'm sorry," Trent said quietly.

"Sorry?" Jane gave a rueful laugh. "Trent, right now you are _way _beyond sorry! You _know_ Daria and Tom are having problems with their parents! Hell, you were in the damn courtroom, and I've already told you how Jake and Helen blew up! Tom's parents didn't react any better than the Morgendorffers! Daria and Tom are looking for whatever kind of support that they can find, whether they admit it or not."

"Tom's got money."

"It's not money I'm talking about!" Jane stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm talking about emotional support! I'm talking about friends being there when they need them! What happened to 'whatever support Daria needs, she's got it?' "

"I meant that, you know," Trent said, looking at his sister.

"Then why did you get in a fight with Tom?"

Trent just looked away. He had thought he'd had good reasons at the time, but he hadn't been thinking so much as acting on impulse that night. His instincts told him that Tom was trouble for Daria, that he had no intention of staying around anymore than he had to. Trent's anger at Tom for screwing over Jane had been very close to the surface lately, too. It boiled over when he thought he saw the same thing starting to happen to Daria, only worse.

"Fine," Jane said when Trent said nothing for a long moment. "You just sit there until you come up with a believable answer. Meanwhile, I've got to figure out how to tell Daria that her kid's father got clobbered by my brother."

"I'll tell her," Trent offered.

"No, you won't!" Jane snapped as she stood back up. "You won't go anywhere near Daria until I've had a chance to talk to her first."

"I'm sorry, Janey," Trent said as Jane walked towards the door.

"Don't call me that," Jane said over her shoulder as she left. "And I'm not the one that you have to apologize to."

* * *

That night at the Morgendorffer house found matters to be somewhat calmer than those at the Lane's. Quinn was sitting at her usual spot at the table and poring over a list of qualifications that she, Stacy, and Tiffany had managed to work out for The Boyfriend Project. Quinn was still bothered by Sandi's reaction during their lunchtime meeting as well as her behavior after that. Sandi had been totally closed off from everyone, only speaking when necessary, and then in short clipped sentences. Quinn had wanted to pursue the subject further, but with every attempt all she had gotten was the cold shoulder and a stony silence. When Sandi had stormed away for the third time that day, Quinn had decided to let the subject rest and approach it fresh in the morning.

Unfortunately, the current dilemma was proving to be equally as frustrating.

"Wow, I wish we could have found a way to break this down a little further." Quinn sighed as she looked at the pages in front of her. "Looks, popularity, what kind of car he drives, his hair . . ."

"You know, Quinn, looks and popularity aren't really what's important in a relationship," Helen said from her usual place at the table.

"Then what is?" Quinn asked.

"The ability to fix major appliances," Daria said as she walked up behind Quinn. She popped the tab on one of Helen's instant breakfast beverages and took a drink.

"Daria, are you sure you that you should be having that?" Helen asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"So far it's the only thing that I haven't wanted to throw up all day," Daria said as she sat down at Jake's usual spot with the vanilla drink. "The doctor said it was okay, and Junior isn't complaining any."

"Anyway, Quinn, what's important is that you find someone that you enjoy being with," Helen tucked her own newspaper off to the side. "Now, by 'being with,' I don't necessarily mean 'have sex with.' Of course after the relationship has progressed for a few years --"

"Mom! Eww!" Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it," Daria smirked from behind her can.

"EWWWW!!"

"Daria!"

"What?" Daria tried her best to look innocent.

"I _mean_ someone to enjoy doing regular, everyday activities with!"

"You mean like how I enjoyed Kyle taking me to _Le Yeast_ last night?" Quinn asked.

"I mean someone who you can get along with for more than one evening. Someone who can share your hopes and dreams, your trials and disappointments. Someone who you look forward to seeing day after, week after week . . ." Helen's voice changed noticeably, making Daria and Quinn exchange a glance. "Month after month, year after year, the same old complaining about his father! God! Is he ever going to get over --"

"Mo-oommmm!" Quinn cut in, having heard too much already. "That is so _boring!_"

"Uh, not at all!" Helen shook herself back to the present. "That's compatibility!"

"I think I'll finish this upstairs," Quinn said with a disbelieving look at her mother.

Helen slumped back into her chair as Quinn walked out of the room. That had not gone the way she had initially wanted it to.

"Good job, Ann Landers," Daria quipped. "Another satisfied customer."

"Thanks a heap. Don't you have homework or something?" Helen asked flatly.

"Nope."

* * *

**Wednesday**

Jane and Daria's usual after school stop at Pizza King had taken a slightly more interesting turn than usual. They had had to push their way inside through a line of boys that stretched almost to the end of the block. Inside Quinn was in the process of interviewing prospective boyfriends, and going through them almost as fast as they could file in through the door. The two girls had just gotten settled into their usual booth as Quinn had gone through Joey, Jeffy, and Jamie, all three of them leaving them with doubtful looks on their faces.

"Wow!" Jane checked her watch. "Ten interviews in ten minutes. She really should consider a career in broadcast journalism."

"Tonight on _Sixty Seconds._" Daria smirked as she took a bite of her chicken and pineapple pizza.

"How can you eat that stuff?" Jane wrinkled her nose as she bit into her usual pepperoni and mushroom.

"Hey, this is the first meal in three days I've had where I haven't felt like puking at the sight of." Daria swallowed. "My dad's cooking not withstanding, of course. Damn morning sickness has _got _to go away sometime."

"Here's hoping." Jane bit off more of her own pizza, slowly chewed and swallowed. "So, heard anything from Young Thomas lately?"

"Nothing since yesterday. I guess his car is still in the shop. I was going to ask him about that fight we heard about at the Zon."

"Yeah, I, uh, heard about that from the band last night," Jane said slowly. "Actually, they were involved."

"Really? What happened?" Daria asked. "Nick and Max finally try to kill each other?"

"Actually, it was Trent." Jane hesitated for a long moment. "And Tom."

Daria sat upright in her seat and stared at Jane for a long moment.

"What?" Daria asked with a surprised / calm sort of tone. "What do you mean Trent and Tom were involved? Did they break it up or something?"

"Not . . . quite." Jane was really beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Actually, they were the _only _two involved."

"Trent and Tom were in a fight with each other." Daria's expression may as well have been carved from stone, she was so unreadable. After one long, tense minute, Daria slid out of her seat and walked straight for the door.

"Hey!" Jane got up out of her own seat and quickly caught up to Daria.

She had plowed through the line, with Jane right behind her, crossed the parking lot and headed across the street. She was making a bee line for Crew Neck and, Jane knew almost for a fact, Tom's house.

"What exactly happened?" Daria asked sharply after about a block and a half.

"Honestly, all I know is what Monique told me, okay?" Jane prefaced.

"Okay."

"Obviously, Trent's been in a mood about something all week, judging from this it's most likely about Tom. Evidently, he'd had a few drinks by the time the band started setting up for the gig, and, according to Monique, Trent started in on Tom from about the minute he'd shown up. Trent starts yelling, Tom yells back, the bouncer tells them to take their discussion outside."

"Where they decide to fight it out," Daria grumbled. "Wonderful."

"Actually, I don't think the decision was very mutual."

"What do you mean?"

"Welllll, Trent threw the first punch." Jane sounded angry and disappointed at the same time.

"_Trent_ threw --?" Daria came to a screeching halt. "Why?"

"I asked him the same thing." Jane sighed heavily. "Evidently it's 'complicated.' "

"Complicated, huh?" Daria started walking again. "Well, let's just find out how complicated things are, shall we?"

When the girls finally got to Tom's house, it was Elsie that answered the doorbell.

"Oh, hi. I was kind of wondering when you'd show up." Elsie stepped back to let them in, looking at Jane as she did so. "Your brother's a complete nut job. You know that, right?"

"I'm beginning to find realize that," Jane replied ruefully.

"Where's Tom?" Daria asked.

"Up in his room." Elsie gestured at the stairs. "He told Mom and Dad he was sick and ditched school yesterday."

"His car isn't in the shop, is it?" Daria asked as Elsie led them upstairs.

"Nope, just his pretty face."

"So he gave as good as he got?" Jane asked. Daria and Elsie looked back at her and she briefly explained about Trent's black eye.

"I thought he got in a couple before the police got there," Elsie said as the trio topped the stairs.

"Someone called the _police_?" Daria shot a stunned look at Jane.

"Guess I forgot to mention that?" Jane said with a forced cheery tone.

"Feeling sheepish, are we?" Daria glowered as she walked past Elsie.

"Baaa," Jane bleated as Daria knocked on Tom's door.

"Go away Elsie." Tom's voice was muffled by the door.

"It's Daria."

"Uh -- _No Tom aqui! No habla ingles!_" Tom's voice shot up in pitch.

"_Me placeré traducir. Ahora, abre la puerta, cerebro de burrito_." Jane said with a smirk. (I'll be happy to translate. Now, open the door, burrito brain.)

"Huh?" Daria cocked an eyebrow at Jane.

"I'll tell you later," Jane said as the door slowly swung open to reveal a downcast Tom.

"Hi," he greeted them quietly. The right side of his face was black and blue just under his eye and it looked like his upper lip on that side was somewhat swollen. He was carrying an ice pack in one hand.

"Whoa!" Jane's eyebrows went way up.

"Tom, what the hell happened?" Daria asked, totally shocked. She couldn't take her eyes of the huge bruise.

"I fell out of my ivory tower?" Tom joked lamely as he turned and walked back into his bedroom.

"Jane said you got into a fight with Trent." Daria said as she and Jane followed him into his room. Elsie leaned against the doorframe behind them to watch.

"Well, it would be useless to deny it now." Tom sat down on the edge of his bed and put the icepack back up against his eye as Jane sat next to him.

"Why?"

"A question I've been asking myself a lot the last couple days."

"No more evading, Tom. Really, what happened?" Daria lowered herself into Tom's desk chair. "Jane told me what she heard from Monique, now I want to hear your side of it."

"Well, after dropping you off at home, I delivered the binder like Jane had asked me to," Tom began, putting the icepack down and rubbing the uninjured side of his face. "Trent started getting in my face and going on about how my mother just threw money at the problem to make it go away. I guess he was talking about the child support settlement. Then he started in on how I'm supposedly going to either ignore or abandon you and the baby after it's born. He wasn't really making a whole lot of sense and, no offense, Jane; I think he seemed a little drunk."

"That goes along with what Monique told me," Jane said glumly.

"Anyway, next thing I know, we're yelling at each other and a minute later, the security guy is telling us to go outside with it. Well, we go, and once we're outside I turn around, hoping to talk some sense to him and . . ."

"Trent hit you," Daria said flatly.

"Well, yeah. Almost knocked me flat." Tom shrugged. "Anyway, we go at it for a few minutes and suddenly, the rest of the guys from the band are pulling is apart. The girl what's-her-name -- Monique -- tells me to get out of there because someone's called the police."

"That would have been me, actually," Elsie piped up from her place against the door frame.

"I thought as much. After that, I got back in the car and we took off." Tom shrugged. "The rest is history."

"Why did you hit him back?" Daria asked.

"Huh?" Tom looked confused. "What was I supposed to do, let him beat the crap out of me?"

"You could have turned around and walked away," Daria said with a flat voice. "You could have cut your losses and not had your head handed to you."

"He seemed to have given as good as he got," Jane put in.

"That's not the point, Jane. He could have got up and walked away and won the moral victory."

"Daria, you don't understand," Tom tried to explain. "I don't like fighting anymore than you do, but Trent started it and I wasn't sure what he had in mind to finish it with."

"But you didn't have to get into a fight!"

"Daria, you aren't getting it! It's a guy thing!"

"A _guy_ thing? What's _that _supposed to mean?" Daria asked with a glare. "You felt you needed to defend your honor or something? What?"

"It's not just that. It's . . ." Tom tried to continue his explanation but was caught fishing for a word.

"Complicated?"

"Well, yeah. Look --"

"No, you look." Daria stood up, her fists clenched at her sides. "You could have taken the hit, swallowed your male pride and walked away. You could have proven to him that you were the better person by not meeting him on his own level; then all this wouldn't be happening. The only thing complicated I see about this whole thing is that you two decided you had to hose down the street with testosterone in a bid to see which one of you was the bigger idiot!"

Daria turned and walked towards the doorway, catching everyone in the room competently at a loss. Elsie smartly stepped aside before Daria got there.

"Daria!" Tom finally found his voice and stood up. "Wait I --"

"Don't even talk to me," Daria said in a voice that was pure acid. Then she disappeared out the door and down the hall.

"Well," Tom said, sitting back down on the bed after a second. "I don't suppose there was any way that could have possibly gone worse."

"Not really." Jane confirmed.

"I suppose I'd better go and apologize."

"Actually, you ought to give her some space for a while, I think," Jane suggested as she stood up. "Give her a day to settle down."

"Probably a good idea, Tom," Elsie said with a shake of her head.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her. Later." Jane left the room at a fast walk to catch up with her angry friend.

"Thanks," Tom said to Jane's retreating back. He then flopped back on his bed and let out a long, tired sigh. "What a mess."

"No kidding." Elsie walked over and sat down by her brother. "You know, you're going to make a wonderful father."

"Thanks loads."

* * *

"Are you going to be okay?" Jane asked, finally breaking the silence a few blocks into their trip home.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Daria sighed. She was silent for a few paces, then sighed again. "I can't believe Trent started a fight with Tom."

"Neither can I," Jane agreed. "I didn't think he had it in him."

"I really don't think that Trent's an idiot. Or Tom. It's just that I wouldn't have thought that either one of them would go so far as to get into a fight over, well, anything." Daria's shoulders drooped, as did her expression. "And then, they get into a fight about me, of all things."

They walked in silence for another block before Jane broke the silence between them.

"Look, Daria," she said, taking a deep breath. "I know there's no excuse for what Trent did, but . . . In his own way, he really does care about you."

"I know."

"If it makes you feel any better, I gave him the same chewing out that you gave Tom."

"It doesn't make me feel any better, but thanks anyway." Daria looked up as they came to the intersection where Glen Oaks Lane turned into Howard Drive. "Jane, I think I'd really like to be by myself for a while."

"Yeah, no problem." Jane looked at her friend for a moment. "You know, you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I know, Jane. But right now, I just need to think for a while, okay?"

"Okay. If you say so."

"See ya."

"Later."

Jane walked backwards for a few paces, watching Daria as she walked up the street. The only other time that she had seen Daria like this was in the few days after she had just found out that she had become pregnant. She thought for a moment that she should have confronted Tom on her own, before involving Daria, but that probably would have made things more difficult in the long run. She realized that that may have been the same reason that Daria had come right out and told her about the kiss right away.

If I had found out about that on my own later on, things would have been a hell of a lot worse, Jane thought sadly. _We may never have spoken to each other again._

Unbidden, Jane's mind conjured up an image of herself totally alone. Not just an outcast, but totally unable to let anyone in ever again, drifting not just through school, but the rest of her life that way. Jane saw herself becoming so hard bitten that Penny would have looked like an old softy in comparison.

No. No way, Jane thought as she walked up the sidewalk to her front door. _I'd have dropped Tom like a hot potato before that happened! Daria would have never blown me off like that! Never!_

Jane swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat as she opened the door and walked in. On the way up the stairs to her room, she let her mind drift back into recent history. First, there was that stupid parade -- she should have known something was off kilter right then and there. She knew Tom was looking back over his shoulder, but she didn't say anything. Daria would catch up or she wouldn't, Jane knew. Somewhere deep down, though, Jane had been hoping that Daria would have.

Holy crap. Where did that come from? Jane asked herself as she topped the stairs. _Daria could take care of her self easily enough. I mean it was just a little paint. And yeah, it would have been cool if she would have tagged along, but . . ._

Jane shook her head and went into her room. She had been so worried about Daria over the past few weeks that her concerns were coloring her recollections of what had happened. Chuckling to herself over how crazy it sounded, Jane reached behind her dresser and pulled out the canvas that was her special project. She set it up on her easel and removed the sheet that protected it, taking a step back and looking at the vaguely human looking shapes that were barely started. One was reclining, holding something in it's arms, while the other stood by their side.

Jane could have realistically expected to have this painting finished in a couple of weeks if she had wanted to, but she was taking her time with it. It would almost be photo-realistic by the time she was done and she wanted it to be done right. She looked at the reclining figure on the bed, mentally superimposing the details of Daria's face on the unfinished head.

Daria'd probably be totally exhausted by the time everything's over and done with, Jane thought. _She'd be a wreck. But that's not how these kinds of things get painted. Tom'd be a wreck too._ Jane's mind put Tom's face on the other figure. _Exhausted, nervous, bouncing off the walls. Both of them would be, really, but they'd be together._

Jane frowned slightly at that one. _They_ would be together.

Damn, I'm doing it again! What the hell am I doing? They're more made for each other than Tom and I ever were.

Jane's mind again drifted back to the few days after the kitchen fire at the Morgendorffers' and all that crap about going out for pizza the night Daria had turned up on Jane's doorstep. She could have almost have blown the whole thing off if Tom hadn't brought up Daria's mentioning an Italian film festival to him the day before. Jane wasn't mad about going out for pizza, but she was angry that Tom was horning in. Jane had actually wanted to talk with Daria. She had thought that the pizza was a pretty good way to ditch Tom for a while and spend some "make-up-for-lost-time" time with her best friend.

Later that night, when she went to Daria's room to apologize for being such a schmuck with the wood sculpture and the drill, Tom was there, and Jane slipped back into 'girlfriend' mode. Jane had meant what she said about Tom and Daria getting along better, but it was still upsetting, but she wasn't sure why any more.

Then, as summer was coming up, Jane set up her trip to the art colony that her mother's friend ran out in the sticks. It wasn't so much that she thought she needed the artistic influences, but it did put a fair distance between her and Lawndale. A couple of hundred miles of separation seemed to be just what the doctor ordered to objectify her point of view on things. It also served to get her away from what she had thought was the source of her problems -- namely Daria and Tom and their developing relationship. For a while it had worked; Jane was so busy getting settled in and set up that she hadn't much time to think about either of them.

Well, that's not exactly true -- I didn't give myself any time to think about them, Jane corrected herself. _Except when I went to sleep, and then I was too tired to care. Well, almost._

Her experience at the art colony hadn't exactly gotten her away from her problems at home, but had actually dropped another one into her lap. Namely a slightly older brunette named Alison. (Jane winced at the thought. That name had been popping up far too much lately.) Their budding friendship had, at the time, been enough to get Jane to stop dwelling on the distraction of Daria and Tom. After a few days Jane had began treating Alison the same way that she had usually treated Daria and had actually started thinking of the other girl as a replacement for Daria.

Then Alison had hit on her, throwing Jane for a complete loop. After returning to her cabin as fast as her legs could carry her, she didn't sleep worth a damn that night, the better part of two bottles of wine not withstanding, and ended up doing a lot of thinking. One friend had betrayed her by taking her boyfriend, and another new friend had betrayed her by trying to cross a line Jane had never considered before. Jane had felt trapped, just like the painting of the woman in the safe she had done at the colony.

Everyone had always seemed to want to butt in, Jane thought. Daria had butted in on her relationship with Tom, though Jane was now convinced that it wasn't deliberate. Tom had butted in on her relationship with Daria, though Jane now thought that she had practically invited him to do so. Even Alison had butted in, wanting to . . . Well, best not to think about that. It all ended up leaving Jane very angry -- at Tom, at Daria, at Alison, even at herself. As she thought about it all again, she realized that she wasn't angry because Tom and Daria got together, but because Daria and Jane had come apart.

I didn't become a third wheel in my own relationship. Jane remembered her words from back then. _I tried to change wheels for another one with the correct anatomical parts, but it wasn't working because I already had . . . Oh boy._

"I wasn't pissed about Tom seeing Daria," Jane said to the empty room with a flash of insight. "I was pissed about Daria _not _seeing me."

Glancing up at the painting, Jane replaced Tom's face with her own in her mind's eye.

Oh, come on! Daria would tell you that you're tired and you're projecting, or something, Jane thought with a huff. _Ask her tomorrow! You'll see!_

"That may not be a good idea at the moment," Jane mumbled in response to the last thought, remembering what the Daria figure in the painting would be holding when the painting was finished. "Not a good idea at all."

* * *

Daria's walk home turned into a slow trudge. Her thoughts bounced between the idea that Tom had gotten into a fight over her and the idea that Trent, of all people, had been the one to start it. Yes, he'd been acting more out of sorts for the past ten days or so, but that he would go so far as to start something like this just didn't compute. And why would he have to do it now of all times?

She had long harbored a schoolgirl crush on her best friend's brother. After their multimedia collaboration had gone downhill, the crush had abated somewhat. More precisely, it had transmuted. An unrequited crush had turned into a sisterly affection for the young man. Occasionally, though, her thoughts would turn to 'what might have been.' Now, there was a more disturbing tone to those thoughts.

Daria honestly didn't believe that Trent had a temper, since it had taken him some time to get to this level. And Tom was more inclined to work out the core of a problem by debate and discussion. Now she had to believe that, if physically provoked, he would react in kind.

I have to figure out what really started this, Daria thought as her house came into view. _There's more to it than just male posturing, and I refuse to believe that this was about Tom blowing me and Junior off after. Trent would never . . ._

Daria shook her head. That was definitely not a place that she wanted to wander into tonight. She resolved to get Trent and Tom together in the same place and find out exactly what their beef with each other was. After that, they'd work it out one way or the other.

With a deep breath and broad strokes of a course of action in mind, Daria walked the rest of the way home. When she got there, she saw that both of the trashcans had been knocked to the ground, their vile contents spread out over the driveway. Neither vehicle was in the driveway, so, unless someone had parked in the garage, no parents were home. That, in turn, meant Quinn was out -- and Daria was stuck cleaning up the mess.

Walking over to examine her involuntary project, Daria already figured that she'd need gloves and a broom at the very least. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of rancid Thai peanut sauce, Daria immediately noticed something that normally should not have been there: an empty cigarette package.

Quinn must have thrown it away, Daria surmised, having discovered that her sister had recently started smoking. _She must have tried to hide it in the kitchen trash or something._

Daria picked up the pack with two fingers and tossed it deep into one of the overturned cans. From the other, she heard the sounds of something scrambling around inside and bent over to look. The soft brown eyes of a gray squirrel looked back at her for a moment before the animal went back to his foraging.

"Eat hardy, fella," Daria said as she stood back up and started for the door. "The buffet is about to close."

She had barely gotten in the front door when she heard her father's car pull into the driveway, coming to a halt with a screech of the tires.

"Damn you kids!" Jake hollered as he stormed out of his car. "I'm gonna put up one of those hidden surveillance cameras!"

"Subtle, Dad. Real subtle." Daria started to go and find some rubber gloves when Jake's startled yelp brought her back to the door. She saw Jake standing under the tree next to the driveway, practicing every swear word he knew at the top of his lungs. The gray squirrel was sitting unconcernedly on the branch, munching on something and ignoring Jake.

"Yeah, _real_ subtle." Daria shook her head and started up stairs. _Let him clean up his own mess.

* * *

_

**Thursday**

Daria found Thursday evening in the Morgendorffer home seemed to be somewhat more tense than normal. It wasn't so much that there was a lot going on, but more like Daria was radiating tension like a campfire radiated heat. Outwardly, she appeared to be her usual calm self as she made slow progress through the planning paperwork that Dr. Nelson, her OB-GYN, had given her several weeks ago. She found it very hard to concentrate in light of recently discovered events now occupying her mind. Her father contributed to the tension in his own way, dominating the kitchen's workspace and assembling a large, live-capture cage trap and mumbling to himself the whole while. His reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose as he went from the instructions, then to the trap and back again. Daria figured he must have been serious if he was following the directions.

Thankfully, Helen wasn't doing anything to add to the tension as she emptied the dishwasher.

"Daria, let's pick a night for Tom to come over," Helen announced as she closed the appliance's door. "How's Friday?"

"Sorry, no good. It's the day after Thursday." Daria did not bother to look up.

"Well, how about Saturday, then?" Helen asked, resigning herself to a long contest.

"I'll be gearing up for Sunday." Daria tried to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her. She felt her back teeth start to grind.

Well, now . . . Helen 's eyebrow went up slightly as she noticed her daughter's jaw tense up. "Daria, is there some reason that you don't want to invite Tom over?"

"Damn squirrels are nothing but rats with fluffy tails!" Jake interrupted, drawing Helen's attention away from Daria so she missed the pained look that passed over her face. "Well, to catch a rat, you've got to think like a rat! Where's the cheese?"

Jake turned and yanked open the refrigerator, sticking his head inside and rummaging around. Quinn walked into the kitchen just in time to see Daria angle a caustic glance at Helen.

"Mom, Dad, it's official," Quinn said formally, her hands folded together in front of her. "Jamie is my new boyfriend. Therefore -- "

"Boyfriend??"

Everyone jumped as Jake tried to stand up while still part way in the fridge, cracking his head on the shelf above. Items fell over noisily, but nothing fell out as Jake hastily freed himself. His reading glasses were somewhat off kilter and he rubbed the back of his head as he turned on his youngest daughter.

"When did this deadbeat get to be your boyfriend?" Jake asked loudly. "Who is he? Helen, did you know about this?"

"I heard about it just now, Jake. Just like you did." Helen said with a frown. "Now just settle down and let Quinn finish what she was saying."

"I'm not going to stand by and watch our other daughter ruin her life, too!" Jake slammed the refrigerator door behind him and grabbed the trap by its handle. "I want to meet this guy, Quinn. I want to know everything about him and I'm gonna break his fingers if he so much as thinks about going too far!"

Jake stomped out of the kitchen, still mumbling to himself, leaving Quinn and Helen looking worriedly behind him. Daria was doing her best to tune out the universe and refused to look up. Helen shook her head and started to turn back to Daria, but was interrupted by the telephone ringing.

"Hello? Amy, hi!" Helen answered the phone. She continued to talk to her sister as she stood up and walked out of the kitchen. Daria continued to frown into her paperwork as Quinn nonchalantly walked up to her.

"It was a very difficult decision," Quinn said with a practiced casualness as she fished for a reply.

Daria wasn't taking the bait, however, and frowned in concentration at her paperwork.

"I mean, picking Jamie for my boyfriend." Quinn rocked from heel to toe. "_Much _contemplation was involved."

"If he's your boyfriend, how come you're not with him right now?" Daria asked, barely avoiding snapping at her sister. She put her paperwork down. "You should be together all the time, that's what girlfriends do, you know."

"What?" Quinn was confused. "You're not always with Tom, and you're pregnant!"

"Thanks for reminding me," Daria said icily. "And, on that subject, Tom has a cold and we agreed that I shouldn't be exposed while he's still contagious. If he wasn't sick, we'd be together all the time, before school, after school, between meals and after snacks, and then on the phone all night."

"But -- "

"In fact, you should be with Jamie, _right now_, unless you _want_ to cause problems this early in the relationship." Daria picked her papers back up, frowned into them, and tried not to think about Tom.

"A girlfriend's work is never done," Quinn said with a sigh as she walked off.

About time, Daria thought as she stared at the papers without seeing what was on them. She wasn't really concentrating on them anyway. Every time she tried, images of Tom and Trent leaked in around the edges of her concentration. This was not a side of Tom she knew, or wanted to know, for that matter.

"Well, if you're sure you want to come back up after everything that's happened," Helen said into the phone as she walked back into the room. "Of course, Amy. We'll have the guest room ready for you on Monday . . . All right. Bye."

Helen turned the phone off just in time to hear Jake start hollering and screaming out in the back yard. She turned to the window and saw that her husband had gotten his arm, up to his elbow, trapped inside the cage, and was running around frantically trying to shake it off. She shook her head and realized how foolish Jake looked, running around the yard with that box on his arm.

"You're worried about your father's behavior," Helen said, voicing the realization of Daria's reticence about inviting Tom Sloane to dinner.

"Look, _I _understand him . . ." Daria started to reply.

"Really?"

". . .And a couple of days ago, that might have been the only reason, but . . ."

"But what, dear?"

"It's . . ."_ I can't believe I'm going to say this._ "It's complicated, Mom."

"Complicated? How so?"

"Well . . . I'm not exactly sure how to go into this." Daria took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yesterday I found out that Tom got into a fight over the weekend."

"Oh my." Helen sat up. "Was he hurt? Was he mugged?"

"He's fine, just a few bruises. And no, he wasn't mugged."

"Well, who did he get in a fight with?"

"Jane's brother." Daria looked down at the table top.

"You mean Trent? That boy with the band? What would those two have to fight about?"

"From what I can gather . . . me."

"What? You?" Helen blinked in surprise at Daria's revelation. Then she blinked at the acidic expression on Daria's face and realized what she had just said. "Omigod, Daria, I'm sorry! I didn't mean that like it sounded! Honestly!"

"Really? Thanks a heap." Daria started to get up.

"Daria, wait, please!" Helen held out a hand and Daria stopped for a moment, then sunk back into the chair. "I apologize."

Daria just mumbled something that sounded like "Apology accepted."

"It's just that, well, I can't imagine either of them getting into a fight about anything, never mind with each other." Helen balanced her elbow on the table and rubbed her chin with her thumb and forefinger.

"I'm not sure what the real reasons were, but from what Tom told me, Trent might have thought that Tom planned to leave after the baby comes, if not before." Daria looked off into the distance. "It's actually kind of a logical assumption when you think about it. Tom and I got together after he and Jane started to have problems. It would make sense that he would want to find someone else eventually. And Trent probably thought that he was doing me a favor."

"Doing you a favor? How?"

"I honestly don't know." Daria looked back at the table. "I don't know why Tom didn't just walk away from it when he had the chance. I don't know why Trent felt like he had to start a fight to prove whatever point he was trying to prove, and I don't know why I'm so mad at both of them right now that I can't see straight."

"Because you care about both of them, that's why." Helen looked at Daria with a slight smile on her face.

"What?" Daria shook her head, not sure what she had just heard. "What are you talking about?"

"The reason you're so worked up about this is because you care about both of them," Helen repeated. She had to chuckle at the look of consternation on her daughter's face. "Daria, it was obvious you felt something for Trent since you and he went shopping for Jane's birthday present last year, maybe even before that for all I know. As for Tom, the obvious reasons aside, seems to me that he's one of the few people that comes close to measuring up to your standards."

"My standards don't include a willingness to start or participate in fights," Daria snapped.

"I know, Daria. But like you said, it's complicated," Helen said with a sigh.

Daria shook her head. "But none of that tells me how to un-complicate this mess!"

"I'm not sure that you can. This is something that Trent and Tom will have to work through in their own way."

"So, what do I do in the mean time?"

"All you can really do is wait. Beyond that, I don't know."

There's no way those two will work this out on their own. Their own way, maybe. But not without a push in the right direction, Daria thought as she stared at a point on the kitchen table and processed what her mother had told her. This was not going to be easy, and she no longer had the emotional stamina to wait the two boys out. _I guess that means I'll have to take matters into my own hands. Quinn was right. A girlfriend's work is never done._

"Mom, can I have the phone?"

* * *

Trent woke up, sputtering at the sudden deluge of cold water that had hit him in the face. Coughing, Trent sat up and wiped his face with his hands and blinked rapidly to clear his eyes. As he wiped the last of the water away, he saw Jane standing next to the bed with one of the jumbo soda glasses that usually sat by the bathroom sink.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Jane said in flat voice.

"Jeez, Jane, why'd you have to go and do that for?" Trent asked, knowing full well that Jane was still angry at him. He gently rubbed the bruised side of his face.

"Because the firecrackers from the last Fourth of July were all duds." Jane crossed her arms. "Daria wants to see you. She wants me to get you to Pizza King by six thirty."

"Why?"

"Apparently, she wants you and Tom to work out whatever it is that has you trading black eyes."

That brought Trent up short. "Tom's going to be there?" .

"Yes, he is," Jane said. "And, so help me, if you try and throw even one punch, _I'll_ be the one who puts your lights out for good."

"Don't worry about it," Trent said with a sigh as he bent over to look for a dry shirt. "That kid's got a right hook that'd flatten a horse."

As Trent rummaged through the clothes on his floor for a semi-clean shirt, across town in one of the richer estates beyond the Crewe Neck community, Elsie Sloane walked up to her brother's door and knocked.

"What is it, Elsie?" Tom's voice came through the door.

"How'd you know it was me?" Elsie asked as she pushed the door open and leaned on the frame.

"You're the only one that ever knocks," Tom said, not looking away from his computer monitor. He finished typing the line he was working on before turning around. "What is it?"

"Daria called. She wants you to meet her and Jane at Pizza King."

"Oh? When?"

"Six thirty." Elsie took a deep breath. "She said that Jane's brother is going to be there, too."

Tom was silent for a long moment.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Elsie echoed. "This guy practically knocks your block off and all you have to say is 'oh?' I knew you were thick --"

"Elsie, Daria's setting this up, so I suspect that she's getting us together to talk, not duke it out again." Tom turned back to his computer. "At least I hope not. Trent's got a killer left."

* * *

By six thirty-five, four young adults were sitting across a booth from each other. Two young men, both sporting the remains of black eyes and bruises on their faces, looked glumly at the slices of pizza sitting untouched in front of them. A young woman was alternately speared the older of the men with a harsh glare and looked with disgust at the pizza, consisting mostly of vegetables and white sauce, that the other young lady ate with undisguised gusto.

"Daria, just exactly how can you stomach that stuff?" Jane asked, cocking an eyebrow at her friend as the last of the pizza disappeared.

"You try being five months pregnant and see what kind of strange things you start craving," Daria said as she wiped her mouth with one of the restaurants too thin napkins. Time to get to the business at hand. "Trent, Tom, by now you two obviously know why we're here, and it's not for the pizza. I want to know exactly what the problem is between you two and why it had to boil down to a fight in the middle of the street." Tom and Trent started to speak at the same time, but Daria cut them off. "And if either one of you says 'It's complicated,' Jane and I are going to knock your heads together."

Trent and Tom looked at each other, their expressions seeming to say _So much for that idea,_ and then both looked back down at their plates.

"Well?" Jane prompted after several long moments of silence had passed.

"It's honestly not that easy to explain, Jane," Tom said, finally looking up.

"Well, somebody better try," Daria said flatly.

"It's a guy thing, Daria," Trent said with a shrug.

"Funny, that's what he said." Daria pointed at Tom with her thumb. "I don't buy that any more than 'it's complicated.' Whatever problem you two have with each other, we're going to work it out tonight."

"Hey, I don't have any problem." Tom pointed at Trent, who simply frowned at him. "He threw the first punch."

"Yeah, and you threw the next one. Care to tell me why?"

"He hit me! What was I _supposed_ to do?!"

"I think the bigger question should be why Trent hit Tom in the first place?" Jane said, looking at her brother.

"That _is_ a good question." Tom looked at Trent. "Why did you hit me? I never did anything to you."

"You did something to Jane -- you went behind her back with her best friend," Trent replied, glaring back at Tom.

"Trent, we worked all that out months ago!" Jane exclaimed with a sigh. "Hell, you _helped_ us work it out, remember?"

"Yeah, it worked out so well, look what happened." Trent looked back down at his untouched plate, than back up at Daria and Jane. "Instead of trying to fix what was wrong he decided to go after Daria like nothing ever happened."

"Oh lord," Tom groaned, slumping back in the bench then sitting back upright. "Trent, we got bored with each other! No amount of fixing was going to change that. We ended up on a sour note, and while I wish _that_ could have gone better, we're still friends."

"And what's going to happen when you start getting 'bored' with Daria, huh?" Trent made finger quotes as he spoke. "You still going to be friends while she tries to raise your kid?"

"This isn't even remotely the same thing!" Tom said defensively.

"Yeah, I noticed. Too bad your bright idea for a good time backfired, ain't it?" Trent sneered. "You shoulda kept your pants on, smart guy."

"It wasn't just Tom's idea, Trent," Daria said quietly. "It was mine, too."

"Excuse me?" Trent coughed in surprise.

"What we did wasn't just Tom's idea, Trent." Daria looked up, seeing the look of disbelief on Trent's face.

"You mean it was your idea?" Trent practically sputtered, not sure he had heard right.

"Careful, brother o' mine," Jane chuckled as Daria's eyebrow rose.

"But I thought . . ."

"You thought Tom somehow talked me into having sex with him, didn't you?" Daria asked. "That's why you hit him, isn't it? Trent, with the exception of Jane, when have I ever 'let' anyone talk me into anything? Willingly?"

"What?" Trent was still processing what he had just heard. "You and . . .What?"

"Trent, Daria doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do, even if it takes her forever to decide that she wants to do it." Jane looked at her brother, watching the play of expressions across his face as he worked out what he just heard. It was when he slumped back in his seat that Jane finally made a connection she wouldn't have necessarily made before. "Oh my god."

"What?" Daria asked.

"Oh my god!" Jane exclaimed, looking at her brother with wide eyes. "You had a crush on Daria!"

"_What??_ No! Jane, she's practically another sister!" Trent was totally flabbergasted. "Besides there's that whole age thing and --!"

"Well, if this is the way you treat your sister's lovers, remind me never to bring home the first guy I have sex with." Jane was practically laughing.

Daria's face went white, then red all the way down to her collar as she watched the byplay between the Lane siblings. Something began niggling at the back of her mind, and she momentarily tuned them out. Tom just sat back and shook his head.

"I knew it!" Jane's grin was almost overwhelming. "You've got a thing for Daria! I _knew_ it!"

"I do _not _have a crush on Daria!" Trent's voice rose and he started coughing.

"Methinks you doth protesteth too much," Jane said, still grinning.

"You hit me because you have a crush on Daria and you saw me as an outside threat," Tom theorized. "I was encroaching on your territory."

"I belted you because you're a too-rich little punk who doesn't know enough to keep it in your pants, that's why!" Trent coughed again. "You should have been smart enough to know that Daria wasn't ready for any of this and got the hell out before it went too far!"

"Too far? And just who the hell are you to define what's too far?"

"...it's too bad you're not a few years older, or I could have taken you out..."

Trent, Tom and Jane all looked at Daria, her softly spoken sentence bringing the conversation to a halt.

"Say what?" Trent blinked, knowing that line from someplace.

"It's too bad you're not a few years older, or I could have taken you out," Daria repeated. "You said something close to that right after you and Jane spent the night at my house when your family all came home at once. Remember?"

"You did?" Jane asked.

"I guess I did," Trent replied as he racked his memory for exactly what happened. "Monique and I had broken up --"

"For the seventieth time," Jane put in.

"And my mom wanted to ground you for breaking curfew," Daria filled in.

"Yeah," Trent confirmed.

"And after Jane and I asked you to help with that multi-media thing, you told me that it probably wasn't a good idea for us to get together." Daria was making a leap, but it was one that made sense.

"Uh, yeah. But I meant on the project." Trent pointed out.

"A point that you tacked on almost as an afterthought," Daria said, thinking back for a moment.

Maybe we just have different ideas about what a commitment is.

I suppose we do.

I guess it wasn't such a great idea for us to get together... on this.

No, I guess there was no way it could have worked out.

"Trent," Daria started hesitantly, then looked him in the eye. "Were you trying to break up with me?"

For a moment, Daria wasn't sure if Trent was even breathing, but she could tell from the look in his eyes that he was mentally replaying the conversation that Daria was talking about. It was a long moment before he spoke again.

"I don't know, Daria," Trent said slowly. "I guess . . . maybe I was."

"Trent, you have got to be the only person in the world I know who would break up from a crush." Jane arched her eyebrow at her brother, and then saw the expression on his face for what it was. She looked over at Daria and saw a similar expression. "Then again, maybe not."

"Yeah," Tom said, also looking from Daria to Trent and back.

"Okay," Daria shook herself back to the here and now, looking at Tom. "So why did you hit him back?"

"Something slightly more primal and not nearly as romantic." Tom shrugged. "He blindsided me and I got pissed."

"That's all?" Jane asked.

"Pretty much."

"No sob story about an unrequited crush on his devastatingly beautiful, younger sister?" Jane smirked wickedly and batted her eyes at Tom.

"Oh, shut up." Tom chuckled amsuedly.

"Tom, I'm sorry," Trent said honestly. "This whole thing got completely out of hand and . . . Well, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Tom nodded. "Apology accepted."

"And Daria, I should apologize to you, too. Not just for the fight, but . . .well," Trent sighed, trying to search for the right thing to say.

"It's complicated?" Daria asked with her own little smirk.

"Yeah." Trent nodded. "Complicated."

"And on that note, I think it's time we got out of here," Jane said as she slid out of the booth and stood up. "I don't think that these people need anymore of our little dinner theater."

"Probably not, but I do need to talk to Tom for a minute," Daria said as Trent slid out of the booth as well.

"Is it complicated?"

"No, just unavoidable."

"Okay, we'll catch you later then," Jane said as she and her brother turned to go. "Oh, Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"Now you can call me 'Janey' again."

"Thanks, Janey."

Tom and Daria sat quietly for a moment as they watched the Lane siblings leave the restaurant.

"What do you suppose that was all about?" Daria asked Tom.

"Beats me. It's probably complicated." Tom smirked and Daria groaned. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well," Daria said, taking a deep breath. "Do you have any plans for dinner Sunday night?"

* * *

**Friday**

Sandi Griffin is just impossible! Quinn thought as she slammed her handbag down on the girls' bathroom counter. _God, how could she say that!_

Over lunch, Quinn told Stacy and Tiffany about her telephone call with Jamie. Once again, Sandi had sat at the table across the aisle and one down and listened in on the conversation. Quinn was saying that Jamie couldn't keep his attention on a topic as simple as eyeliner, when Sandi's voice had cut through the conversation like a knife.

"God, Quinn, I hope you're better in the back seat than you are on the phone."

Quinn was mortified, to say the least, and could only sputter in shock while Sandi glared -- then smiled in triumph. Grabbing her handbag, Quinn left the lunchroom before Sandi could say anything else or think up something more hurtful. She wound up in the girls' room, looking for a few moments to herself before she would inevitably have to face the rest of the school again. Digging roughly through her handbag, she searched for eyeliner, blush, mascara, something to do in front of the mirror for a few minutes in case someone came in. She stopped suddenly when she felt the crinkle of cellophane under her fingers.

Taking the partially empty pack of cigarettes out of her bag, Quinn looked at it for a long moment. She had been trying to keep her new habit a secret from her friends and family, and getting caught smoking in school would be the surest way for them all to find out.

Deciding at the moment that she didn't care, Quinn leaned against the last toilet stall and pulled a cigarette out, put it between her lips and lit it with the disposable lighter that was stuck in the side of the pack. She leaned back against the wall and blew the smoke towards a vent that took the place of one of the ceiling tiles. Quinn closed her eyes for a moment and was about to take a second drag when she heard the door open and the footsteps of someone coming in. She froze, knowing she was busted, for Barch, or Defoe, or worse -- Li -- to come around the corner and catch her in the act.

Up until that moment, Quinn had never thought that she would be glad to see Andrea.

"Oh! It's you!" Quinn said with a sigh. "I thought you were a teacher."

"Only in my nightmares," Andrea said as she dug into a pocket in her dress, then into the pocket on the opposite side. "Dammit."

"What?"

"Forgot my cigarettes at home," Andrea started to turn around and leave.

"Wait. Want one of mine?" Quinn held out her pack to the Goth girl.

"Uh, sure." Andrea took one form the pack, along with the lighter. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Andrea lit her cigarette with a practiced motion and handed the lighter back to Quinn.

"Aren't you afraid of getting caught?" Quinn asked as Andrea took a drag.

"Not really." Andrea blew the smoke from her nose. "I've been caught a couple of times before. A couple hours detention. My folks don't care."

"Mine'd kill me." Quinn took a puff and blew her own smoke.

"So, what's the beef with you and Sandi?" Andrea asked after a minute or so of silence.

"I wish I knew." Quinn said. "She's been acting this way ever since the court thing."

"So I've heard."

"From who?" Quinn cocked an eyebrow at the other girl as she took another drag.

"People _do_ talk to me, you know." Andrea replied, blowing smoke at the same time. She looked at the cigarette in her fingers, thinking that it was weak compared to her usual brand.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Quinn's eye caught her reflection in the mirror and she cocked her hip slightly before taking another drag on her cigarette.

"I know." Andrea looked Quinn's reflection in the eye. "She's not going to come to you, ya know."

"What do you mean?" Quinn said, forgetting about practicing her 'smoker's pose' and turning to face Andrea.

"She's just like her mother: a stone hearted, control freak bitch with a stick up her ass. Only now, she's got no control." Andrea says. "Sandi, Tiffany, and Stacy were the three musketeers around Lawndale for years. You forced her out of her own clique, and she doesn't know how to get back in."

"I don't understand. How do you know?"

"Quinn, I went to kindergarten around here. So did Sandi. I've practically watched her grow up." Andrea took another drag on her cigarette. "She's been the one in charge for as long as I've known her."

"But I didn't want to _be _the one in charge! I just wanted a friend."

"Sandi doesn't really do friends. She never has." Andrea dropped the remains of her cigarette on the floor, ground it under her toe, and kicked it under the stall behind them.

"But why?" Quinn asked, crushing out her own cigarette.

"Her mom's convinced her that you have to be the one on top or you're nothing." Andrea shrugged as she turned to leave. "Kind of pathetic, really."

"But, she's my friend."

"She used to be my friend too, once. Go figure."

"What?"

"I said she used to be my friend too," Andrea repeated, turning around to face Quinn again. "Then she decided that she had to be the one calling all of the shots all of the time. Finally, I went my way and she went hers."

"You and Sandi used to . . .?" Quinn was really getting confused.

"Let's just say that playing dress-up wasn't my thing. Look, Quinn, if you want to try and get back in Sandi's good graces, then good luck." Andrea turned, pushing the bathroom door open and looked back over her shoulder. "But don't hold your breath, either."

* * *

Sandi pulled her handbag over her shoulder as she walked out of the school's main entrance, wishing for the hundredth time that her tightwad father would get her car fixed. He had said something about not doing it until her grades were brought up, so he obviously didn't understand that someone in her position had an image to uphold. She decided that she would have to have a talk with her mother about all of that, since she understood such things as social status.

"Sandi! Wait up!"

Turning around, Sandi saw Quinn come out of the doors and weave her way through the crowd of students departing the school. As Quinn made her way in Sandi's direction, Sandi frowned and kept on walking. Quinn was the last person she wanted to talk to.

"Sandi, hold up," Quinn said as she finally caught up with Sandi.

"What do _you_ want?" Sandi snapped as Quinn fell in step beside her.

"I want to talk to you about something."

"Yeah, right." Sandi refused to look at Quinn. "Don't you have a date, or something? Like, with the defensive line of the football team?"

"Sandi, that's not fair! I'm trying to be serious here!"

Sandi could hear how angry and hurt Quinn sounded. _Good, _she thought. "All right. Talk."

"I want to know why you're so angry at me," Quinn said, trying to get Sandi to look. "You've been acting like this ever since Daria's court thing. What happened?"

"What happened!?" Sandi stopped suddenly and spun on Quinn. "You undermined my authority as president of the Fashion Club and you stole my friends from me! That's what happened!"

"Is that what you thought Andrea tried to do?" Quinn asked.

"What do you know about Andrea?" Sandi hissed. "What did that _bitch _tell you?"

"Just that you two used to be friends once." Quinn said with a shrug.

"She was never my friend. I don't know why I ever put up with her in my club." Sandi started walking again.

"She was in the Fashion Club?" Quinn asked.

"She just hung around us while we tried on clothes," Sandi grumbled. "There wasn't really a Fashion Club back then."

"So, what happened?"

"Nothing."

"I don't mean with Andrea, I meant what happened to get you so mad at me!" Quinn knew that she wasn't going to get anymore about Andrea. She didn't really want to know about that anyway.

"You had to go and admit that -- that _pregnant_ girl is your sister!"

"She _is_ my sister, Sandi."

"I know she's your sister, dammit! I'm not stupid, you know! Do you think I admit that my geekoid brothers are really my brothers in public?" Sandi rolled her eyes. "People like that just aren't normal."

"Daria?"

"Her, too." Sandi glanced at Quinn and then looked back in the direction they were walking. "I hope she's happy, now. She's got all the popularity that she could ever want and got to make me look bad in the process."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't go anywhere without hearing someone talking about poor preggo Daria and how she's going to have all of her bills taken care of by her rich boyfriend's parents and how a judge thinks _I _need therapy. That _judge _needs her head examined." Sandi frowned as she recalled that afternoon in court. Then she glared at Quinn again. "If you would have just kept your mouth shut in Language Arts, none of this would have ever happened, so it's all your fault."

"My fault? For admitting that Daria's my sister?" Quinn was confused. "You're mad at me for admitting Daria's my sister?"

"No, for turning my friends against me!"

"What? I never turned your friends against you, Sandi!"

"Oh? Then how did you get Stacy to say what she said in court?" Sandi asked harshly. "I'm her best friend! She would never say something like that against me on her own!"

"Stacy told the truth in court! That's what you're supposed to do!"

"Well, what about in class? About her mother?"

"Sandi, we've both met Stacy's mom," Quinn pointed out with a sigh. "You've seen her. She's barely thirty-four."

"Hmph. Plastic surgery." Sandi dismissed the explanation.

"I've done the math, Sandi, it works out."

"Egghead geek."

Quinn shook her head and sighed. "Sandi, the point is, no one's turned against you --"

"Oh, so I'm just delusional, am I?" Sandi started to speed up, but was stopped by Quinn's hand on her shoulder. She tried to push the other girl's hand away, but it wouldn't move.

"Sandi, stop it. That's not going to work this time." Quinn turned Sandi so she could look her friend in the face. "You're not delusional, but the only one who thinks that your friends have turned against you is _you_. We're worried and we want to know what we can do to help."

Quinn looked into Sandi's face, seeing an almost desperate need to be the one in control of everything in her eyes. She recognized it easily, having seen it in her mom's eyes a lot over the years. But there was something else behind that, too.

"Then, like, give me back my friends," Sandi said flatly. "Give me back the Fashion Club."

"I never took your friends, but I am one of them. And I never took the Fashion Club either, Sandi, you _made_ me the vice president. Stacy and Tiffany just went along with what you said." Quinn finally hit on what the look was and where she had seen it before -- in her sister's eyes. "What you're angry about is that Daria's getting more attention than you are."

"Bull." Sandi started walking again. When Quinn started to follow her, Sandi turned and put her hand out to stop Quinn. "Look, Quinn, you're wrong. Completely wrong. So just leave me alone."

No, I'm not, Quinn thought as she watched her best friend walk away.

* * *

Quinn trudged through the front door just in time to hear the television mention something about running livers. She really wasn't paying much attention as she dropped down onto the sofa next to Daria, who was watching her usual after school dose of _Sick Sad World_.

"If Jamie calls, I'm not speaking to him," Quinn said dully as she picked up the remote.

"How about if he doesn't?" Daria asked rhetorically, giving her sister a sour look as the channels started rolling by.

"You can put Joey through. He's my new boyfriend." Quinn kept flipping channels, not seeing what was on the screen.

"Shouldn't you be watching your new boyfriend at football practice right now?"

"Yeah, probably," Quinn mumbled, finally putting down the remote. "Daria, I . . ."

"What?"

"You were mad at me 'cause I got all the attention when we were kids, weren't you," Quinn said without looking.

"What?" Daria looked over at Quinn. "What brought this question from out of the blue?"

"Sandi and I talked a little after school."

"And she was mad because you got all the attention when we were kids?" Daria asked, not knowing where Quinn was going with this.

"No, you dope." Quinn looked with a momentary expression of amusement. "She's all mad because everyone's talking about you being pregnant and what happened in that court thing. She also thinks because of what Stacy and I said in court, that I stole her friends and the Fashion Club away from her."

"Tell her to give it a week and they'll be talking about something else." Daria took the remote and switched the channel back to the one she had been watching. "As for the other thing, have the Fashion Club give her a special Accessory Coordination Award or something."

"I don't think that's going to work," Quinn sighed. "She's been mad before, but not like this."

"Then the three of you need to sit Sandi down and convince her otherwise," Daria said. "In the meantime, cheer up. Go hang out with your new boyfriend at practice or something."

"It's too humid. My hair might frizz."

"Brittany's out there supporting Kevin." Daria crossed her arms and looked at the television set. "She's got hair, too."

"Yeah, but she's a cheerleader. She has to go," Quinn pointed out.

"I'm not a cheerleader, but I still go to all of Tom's luge races." Daria cocked an eyebrow at the television. "But, I guess if you want to be one of those unsupportive girlfriends--"

"Then shouldn't Tom be over here? Wouldn't that make him an unsupportive _boy_friend?"

"He's still contagious," Daria improvised quickly, using the Tom's-got-a-cold excuse from earlier in the week. "What's Joey's excuse?"

"Oh, all right. Maybe they have some frizz-proof conditioner at the drugstore." Quinn got up and started to walk out.

"Hey, Quinn?" Daria turned to face Quinn as she turned. "To answer your question . . . maybe I was a little mad. But I worked it out."

"So, you're not mad anymore?"

"Haven't been for a long time," Daria said with her Mona Lisa smile.

"Thanks, sis," Quinn said with her own smile slipping through.

* * *

**Saturday**

Helen stood in the doorway of the kitchen watched Jake as he was examining the contents of the refrigerator. Once again, that damn live-capture trap was on the kitchen counter, this time sporting a dent in one side. From what Daria had told her, Jake had kicked the trap when he accidentally captured the neighbor's cat and got scratched in the process of releasing it. Ever since the court proceedings had concluded, Jake's temper had been far volatile.

Taking a deep breath, Helen walked up to Jake as he began working deeper into the fridge. Hopefully, she could keep his mind off that squirrel vendetta he had seemed to develop and on the upcoming Sunday dinner.

"Jake, dear, I want to talk to you about Sunday night," Helen said as Jake continued searching for whatever he was searching for. "Tom's coming over and it would mean a lot to Daria if we were both on our best behavior."

"The cheese didn't work," Jake muttered, totally absorbed with his quest. "Do squirrels like salami?"

"Jake, this is important!" Helen said exasperatedly. "I want you to give this squirrel hunt a rest while Tom is here!"

"Tom's coming here? When?" Jake stood up and glared. "Hasn't he done enough, now he's got to come over here and freeload, too?"

"He's not freeloading. He's coming over because I asked Daria to invite him over." Helen tried to stay relatively calm. "I want to try to make him feel welcome after everything that's happened."

"You want him to feel _welcome?_ Well, he's not welcome, Helen. Not by a long shot."

"Jake, it would be a lot better for everyone, especially Daria, if we put all this behind us and tried to include Tom! At least a little!"

"Fine. You include him." Jake turned back to the open refrigerator.

"Jake, you promised me that you would at least try, remember?" Helen put her hand on Jake's shoulder and made him turn back to face her. "None of this is making things any easier. We've been _saying _that we want to make things easier for Daria, but we're not _doing _anything about it. Amy's volunteering to stay and help out is one way, and you trying to make peace with Tom is another."

Jake turned away from Helen and closed the refrigerator door. He looked into the gun metal colored surface for a long moment, his expression slowly softening. Helen couldn't tell what was going through his head, but she figured that it was a good thing that he hadn't gone off on a rant. Probably.

"I guess I've been kind of acting like my father, huh?" Jake walked over to the kitchen table and slumped down in Quinn's usual seat. "If any of his kids had gone through this, he'd have tossed them out on their ear and locked the door behind them without looking back."

"You're not your father, Jake," Helen said soothingly as she walked up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.

"If I was, I'd have been dead two years ago." Jake looked up at Helen. "I don't like what Tom's done to our little girl, Helen. Not one damn bit. But I will try to be nice, for Daria's sake."

"Thank you, Jakey," Helen said, kissing him on the top of his head. "That's all I ask."

Jake sat there for a long moment while Helen walked out of the kitchen.

"But don't hold your breath," he said the moment Helen was out of earshot. Standing back up, he returned to the refrigerator. "I wonder if squirrels like bacon bits?"

* * *

"I really miss you too, Stacy!" Quinn lamented into the telephone as she paced the width of the living room. Joey was due to show up at any time and she was starting to get impatient. "It's so hard to see your friends and go shopping when you're forced to be with -- when you have a boyfriend. But commitment is very important to me."

"Hello, Bellevue?" Daria muttered from the sofa, reading yet another book on child care. She had kind of wished that Quinn would take her conversation someplace else, but decided to tough it out.

"So, what did Sandi say when . . .You mean she's not talking to you either? Maybe we can get Tiffany to talk to her for us." Quinn rubbed her forehead as she began another circuit of the living room, then came to a sudden stop. "Sandi's been dating Kyle? But I thought he liked me! Yeah, I know, boyfriend blah blah blah." Quinn sighed. "So, what are you guys doing tonight?"

"Oh, the usual," Daria deadpanned to herself. "Cast a few spells, then a quick broomstick ride before bed. Maybe pick out a labor coach in the morning."

"But I _love_ Guys-to-Guys!" Quinn almost wailed into the phone. "I can't believe Joey's not taking me to that concert."

Daria just rolled her eyes. _I can't believe that I've sat here and listened to this for as long as I have._

"There he is," Quinn told Stacy as the doorbell rang. "Got to go!"

Putting the telephone down on the table next to the front door, Quinn pulled the door open and was confronted by what appeared to be a huge bouquet of flowers supported by human legs. Upon taking the flowers, she revealed Joey, dressed in a sport coat and slacks.

"Hi Quinn!" Joey said with a huge smile.

"Uh, hi. Change of plans," Quinn said quickly. "You're taking me to the Guys-to-Guys concert."

"But you said you wanted to go to _Margé La Cuisine!_" Joey stammered. "Tonight's their open --"

"Well, forget what I said, I want to go to the concert!"

"But Quinn, it's sold out!"

"_Fine!_ If you won't take me then you obviously don't care!" Quinn shot back accusingly, making Joey blink in surprise. "You're one of those _unsupportive boyfriends_!"

"But Quinn!"

"Forget it! It's too late! It's over!"

"Quinn, wait!" Joey yelped just as the door slammed in his face.

Quinn grabbed the phone off the table and stalked back into the living room. She could feel her face beginning to redden under her foundation.

"Wow. A whole day," Daria said as she looked over her shoulder at Quinn. "At least you'll have the memories."

"I give up!" Quinn tossed her hands in the air then started dialing the phone. "All this boyfriend stuff is too time-consuming."

"Daria?"

Both girls looked up at the sound of Helen's voice. She did not look as confident as she was trying to sound.

"I, um, spoke to your father," Helen said slowly. "He's agreed to behave, so we're all set for Sunday night."

"Swell," Daria mumbled. _Damn._

"And Quinn! Why don't you invite your boyfriend, too?"

"Boyfriend?" Quinn's voice broke slightly. "Invite my boyfriend?"

"Why not? I think it's great that you're in a steady relationship." Helen beamed. "It shows a lot of personal growth!"

"Uh, okay. I'll invite him," Quinn said hesitantly. _As soon as I figure out who he is._

"That's great!" Helen turned to go. "I'll go and break the news to your father."

"Daria, what am I gonna do!" Quinn whispered desperately after Helen left the room. "I just _broke up_ with Joey!"

"And I can see you're beside yourself about it, too," Daria said as she slowly lifted herself out of the sofa. It was getting a little harder to do that as time went on.

"What am I going to do?" Quinn asked again.

"Eeny-meeny-miney-mo?" Daria suggested as she walked past her sister and started up the stairs.

* * *

"But I already did that!" Quinn looked up the stairs after Daria. "That's how I wound up with Jamie!" 

Daria lowered herself onto her bed, propping her back up on her pillow and setting the phone on the bed beside her. Unzipping her jacket, she wasn't sure how to feel about the binding feeling it gave around her midsection. Running her hand over the small bulge in her abdomen that held the baby beneath it, Daria let out a slow sigh. She wondered why she had to go through all of this now instead of ten or fifteen years from now, when she thought that she would actually be prepared for it.

She looked up as she heard a door thump shut across the hall. Apparently Quinn was in a snit about missing her sold-out concert, and Daria figured that her sister would be stomping around the house for about twenty four hours.

Making everyone miserable in the process, Daria thought as she picked up her phone and began dialing._ Since misery loves company . . ._

"Yo," Jane answered after her phone rang four times.

"Hey," Daria said.

"Hey amiga, what's up?"

"Yet another poor heart has been broken by the Zsa Zsa Gabor of Lawndale," Daria said. "Two down, and seven to go."

"As long as she hasn't slapped a policeman yet."

"I think she has a few more boyfriends to go through first." Daria heard something over the connection. "What are you working on?"

A few blocks away, Jane shifted the sketch pad that was sitting across her knees. Holding her own telephone between her shoulder and ear, Jane had been starting on a freeform series of S-shaped lines that weren't really going anywhere yet.

"Oh, nothing special. Just doing some sketching." Jane made another line, letting her hand go where it would. A curve turned back on itself, and Jane examined it briefly. "Not up to dealing with sister-dearest tonight?"

"Not especially," Daria looked down and picked a fuzz ball off of her shirt. "Mom's expecting her to bring a boyfriend over for dinner Sunday night."

"Couldn't she just bring a casserole?" Jane asked as she made a few more strokes. A curve had become a jaw line and a few more were beginning to resemble facial features. _This could be interesting_. "I take it Quinn's back on the hunt."

"After the appropriate grieving period has passed, yeah. I give her half an hour."

"Sounds about right."

"We got a call from my Aunt Amy a couple of days ago. She's supposed to come back sometime Monday."

"Even after what happened with the Sloanes?" Jane asked.

"I guess," Daria replied. "I only heard part of mom's side of the conversation."

"You don't sound very excited about having your favorite aunt coming back to Lawndale."

"Well, she has been through a hell of a lot more than she expected when she found out I was pregnant," Daria said with a slight sigh. "I mean, running into the guy who happens to be ultimately responsible for her inability to have children was not on the agenda."

"Never mind that he turned out to he Tom's father to boot," Jane put in. "Hell, I'm surprised she'd want to come back at all."

"Likewise."

"Which reminds me, any word on what's going on with his parents?"

"None. I can't imaging that it's been good if Aunt Amy's reaction is any kind of benchmark." Daria made a mental note to try and talk to Tom about that. He couldn't be having an easy time of it.

Jane put a few more lines down on her sketch before continuing. "Speaking of your aunt, you know that orchid pastel that she bought at the art fair a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah, the one you said was done by that chick, what's-her-face?" Daria asked, pushing herself up on the bed slightly. "What about it?"

"Alison." Jane winced as she put down her charcoal pencil and looked at her ceiling. "Amy didn't, like, give her a business card or anything, did she?"

"Not that she told me. Of course it's not like I asked, either. Why? What's wrong with her?"

"I'll make you a list, but the top of it is she's a barracuda who's out to further her art career on her back instead of --."

"Wait a minute, isn't this the girl who --?"

"Yeah yeah yeah. That one."

"Okay, Jane, what exactly happened at that place?" Daria asked. "You've brought her up a couple of times before, but never really said anything."

"Daria I . . ."

"Jane."

"All right, all right," Jane sighed. "We had a couple of bottles of wine, she asked me to sleep with her, I ran like hell. End of story."

"She asked you to sleep with her??"

"She thought I was a lesbian. Who knew?" Jane answered, resuming her sketching with a slashing line. "Anyway, nothing happened. I saw her a couple of days later and she's getting her butt grabbed by that Dodson goon I told you about."

"Did you report it to someone?" Daria asked.

"To who?" Jane asked as she formed a couple of lines into a hand. "Daria, everyone there was an adult, or at least pretending to be. And besides, it was an Art Colony. Do you know how many people I saw doing things that would make people around here have a stroke? If I couldn't have handled it, I would have left, and that would have been that."

"But Jane --"

"Daria, really, I've blown it off. Alison and I made our peace, such as it was, and we forgot about it," Jane lied. "Case closed."

"All right, case closed," Daria said with a sigh.

"Tell you what, amiga," Jane said as she put the finishing touches on a couple parts of her sketch. "Next year, you can go to the Art Colony and see for yourself."

"Okay, but you get to baby-sit for the summer."

"Deal."

"Hey, Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Thanks? For what?" Jane's eyebrow went up.

"Talking about nothing for a while," Daria said.

"I don't consider my abortive sexual misadventures 'nothing,' but . . . you're welcome."

"I'll see ya."

"Later." Jane waited a moment for the line to go dead before she turned off her phone. Even though it was mentioned only briefly, Jane knew Daria was nervous about Sunday dinner. The way she dived head long into Jane's problem when it was presented proved it. Daria was always one to deal with someone else's problems before she could look her own in the face.

As Jane was about to slide off the bed, she took one last look at the sketch that she had completed while talking on the phone. She didn't notice that she had knocked her telephone off the bed, because she was too stunned at seeing what she had actually drawn. The sketch in front of her was of Daria, sort of. Daria's glasses, jacket, and hair -- more or less -- were there, but the facial features -- ears, eyes, nose, lips -- were Alison's. The expression was a smoldering smirk-like look that said 'I know something about you that you don't.'

Jane blinked once at the picture, then tossed the pad off of the foot of her bed, hearing it hit the floor with a plop.

"Oh yeah," Jane said as she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her forefingers, leaving a charcoal smudge behind. "Totally over it, my ass."

* * *

**Sunday**

Daria stood looking out of the living room window, waiting for Tom as patiently as she could under the circumstances as six o'clock crept inexorably by. For a few moments she actually hoped that Tom wouldn't make it for dinner, but, at three minutes after he pulled his battered Jaguar up to the curb in front of the house. Taking a deep breath to summon her courage, she walked out the front door and to the curb.

"Hey," Tom said as he got out of the car. His black eye looked like it had faded considerably over the past few days.

"Hey. Did Elsie put something on your eye?" Daria asked. Living with Quinn had enabled Daria to spot a make-up job rather easily.

"Nope, just a fast healer, I guess." Tom smiled slightly.

"If you say so." Daria could smell the concealer that someone had put on Tom's bruise as she walked up to him. "Just keep telling yourself that someday you'll look back on tonight and laugh."

"Isn't that what they said to Lincoln?"

"Tom, I . . ."

"Daria, I don't mind. Really." The pair started slowly walking to the door. "I want to try and make things right, here. In some way that doesn't involve a judge."

"This is just fair warning, but my father's been a little . . . touchier than usual about certain subjects lately."

"So you've told me," Tom said as he opened the door.

"Look, Tom, I know that you're not going to intentionally say anything to upset him," Daria said as she walked past Tom and entered the house. "It's just that he been kind of overly sensitive about you lately. He's trying, he really is, well, for him anyway."

"So no bright lights or loud noises?"

"Tom," Daria warned.

"Don't worry, I want him to like me too, you know. And like you said, at least he's trying." Tom put a hand on Daria's shoulder. "My folks haven't exchanged a single unnecessary word all week, so your dad's been doing better than they are."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Excuse me," Quinn's voice said from the stairs. Tom and Daria looked up as she came down the stairs behind them. "My new serious boyfriend, Joey, will be here any minute and I'd like it if you two didn't do anything to embarrass me."

"I guess the bear suits are out," Daria said dryly.

"Hey, I'd heard you'd gotten a black eye." Quinn looked critically at Tom. "Good job with the concealer. Who did it?"

"My sister, all right?" Tom said, quickly changing the subject. "How long have you and Joey been a couple?"

"It's not the quantity of time, but the quality," Quinn said.

"You'll make a great neglectful parent someday," Daria said, deciding that her sister needed a little mental nose tweaking. "Speaking of which, thanks for agreeing to catch the baby when it's born. Now I know you care."

"Hm?" Tom saw Daria nod in Quinn's direction. "Oh, my pleasure."

"That's gross!" Quinn scrunched her face in disgust.

"No, that's commitment," Tom said as he took Daria's hand. "Right, Snookels?"

"Oh, you!" Daria said with a faux-embarrassed wave of her free hand.

The two started to walk towards the dining room, leaving a somewhat confused Quinn in their wake. As the turned the corner, Tom leaned over to whisper to Daria as the doorbell rang behind them.

"I don't _really _have to catch the baby, do I?" Tom asked. A second later, pain shot up his arm as Daria tried to mash his hand in her grip. "Ow! Okay, okay, okay! I'll do it!"

"Thank you, Snookels." Daria smirked, relaxing her grip. "And Junior thanks you, too."

* * *

Despite Jeffy and Tom's assisting Helen with setting the dining room table in an effort to score some points with Jake, Jake was doing his best to glare in two directions at once. He had insisted that Tom sit just to his right and, though wary, Tom complied. Jeffy lucked out, when Helen offered him the seat on her right. This put Quinn on Jake's left, and she wasn't all that happy about the possibility of getting caught between Jeffy and one of her father's anti-boyfriend rants. Quinn almost felt sorry for Tom, being stuck right next to Jake as he was.

"We're so glad that you boys could come over," Helen said as she spread her napkin in her lap.

"Thanks for inviting us, Mr. and Mrs. Morgendorffer," Tom said cordially, looking between the two adults.

"Umm, yeah," Joey said, also looking in Jake's direction, though only for a moment.

"Hmph," was all that Jake had to say. This earned him a glare from Helen. "I mean, no problem. It's . . ." Jake tried to say something else, but couldn't quite bring himself to go on. "It's no problem."

Daria and Tom exchanged a quick look, and Tom decided to try and break the ice again.

"So, what's new, Mr. Morgendorffer?" Tom asked after a moment.

"Oh, not too much, Tom. Not too much." Jake looked up for a second, then back at his food.

Helen loudly cleared her throat, getting Jake's attention. He saw her look over at Tom and then back at him with an expression that clearly wanted him to keep talking to the boy. He looked back down at his plate for a moment and tried to think of something else to say, but nothing came to mind.

Except . . .

"Except, there's this damn squirrel," Jake said as he looked back up. "He's been terrorizing the neighborhood! Digging up yards and knocking over trashcans with a flip of his tail! Damn thing's a menace!"

"Jake, remember what we talked about," Helen said in a level warning tone.

"Well, he asked," Jake grumped.

"I'm with you, Mr. Morgendorffer," Tom said, trying to bridge the gap. "Some squirrels got into our cellar last winter and ate up all the _Wheat Thins_."

"Tom!" Daria exclaimed, her fork half way to her mouth. _For God sake, don't get him going now!_

"What? They did."

"_Jeffy!_ What are your favorite subjects at school?" Helen cut in. She looked at Jeffy, hoping against hope that she might be able to head the conversation in a safe direction.

"I caught a squirrel once," Jeffy said as though Helen hadn't said a word.

Helen closed her eyes and tried not to swear. At least, not out loud.

"You did!" Jake perked up, showing some life for the first time that evening. "How?"

"They really like peanut butter!"

"Peanut butter! Yeah!" Jake's eyes narrowed as an idea began to form. "I'll bet Thai peanut sauce would work great! And I whipped up a new batch just last night!"

"Oh, Jake, you didn't!" Helen was now actively considering swearing out loud. "Jake, you promised me you'd --"

Helen started to chastise Jake, but was cut off by the ringing of the telephone. She had forgotten that she had put the cordless receiver on the china cabinet while she had been getting the dining room ready. Helen snatched it up and turned it on with one smooth motion. "Hello! Mom? Uh, this really isn't a good time, we're in the middle of a family . . . Yes, I know Erin and Brian are . . . No, mom, I really _don't_ . . ."

Helen sighed as she stood up and left the room with the phone, occasionally getting a whole third of a sentence in.

"Hey Jeffy, do you think you could help me set the trap?" Jake asked as soon as Helen was out of hearing range.

"Sure!" Jeffy responded enthusiastically.

"Jeffy! What's more important?" Quinn glared at her boyfriend-_du-jour_. "Our commitment to compatible exclusivity, or some stupid squirrel?"

"Look! There it is!" Tom yelled, pointing through the picture window.

Jake turned around in his chair to see where Tom was pointing. Sure enough, the little terrorist was sitting right in the middle of the lawn. When it started digging through the grass in search of something, Jake saw red.

"Lets go!" Jake pushed himself out of his chair and made for the dining room / kitchen door. Jeffy and Tom responded to the call to arms and were hot on Jake's heels.

"Tom?" Daria was confused.

"Jeffy!" Quinn was shocked and embarrassed.

Suddenly, the two sisters were the only ones in the room. Both looked at the door, and then out of the window. Daria stood up and walked over to the glass wall, watching as Tom and Jeffy carried the live capture cage out to the yard, followed by Jake and a container of his putrid peanut sauce.

"I guess that answers the 'what's more important' question," Daria said sourly as she watched the three males through the glass. "Well, this has turned out even more ridiculous than --"

"_AUGH!!_ I can't believe Jeffy just deserted me like that!" Quinn screamed in frustration, hitting the table with her fists. "I'll never have a boyfriend! I'll never be in a relationship like you and Tom! I'm a _complete failure!_"

Quinn bolted from the room before Daria had a chance to respond with more than a raised eyebrow.

"Hmm. Do I do the sisterly thing and console her?" Daria asked the empty room rhetorically. She glanced down at the food on the table. "Oh look. Rolls."

Daria picked a roll off the top of the pile and bit into it as her mother walked backed into the room, totally oblivious to much else other than the phone.

"All right, mom. You have Erin call me when they're back in town and I'll give them a couple of names, okay? Good bye." Helen turned off the telephone, looking like she wanted to throw the thing in the trash. She started to put the phone back on the cabinet, stopped when she noticed the empty room. "Oh my, where is everybody?"

"Well," Daria said, swallowing as she finished off the roll. "Dad, Tom and Jeffy are outside, trying to catch a squirrel, and Quinn's in her room crying."

"Why? What happened?"

"Oh, male bonding, I guess."

"I meant with Quinn."

"Oh, she said something about failing at relationships," Daria said with a sigh.

"What?" Helen was surprised. "Just because Jeffy joined your father on some ridiculous squirrel chase, she thinks her relationship is over?"

"Well," Daria said slowly. "She might have had _slightly_ unrealistic expectations about what having a boyfriend entails."

"Uh-huh," Helen crossed her arms. "And just what would some of these expectations be?"

"Oh, you know, being together twenty-four hours a day, hanging on each other's every word," Daria said, hesitating for a second, knowing the next one would set her mother off. "Who's going catch her baby when it's born. . ."

"_What?_" Helen exclaimed. "Daria, how could you mislead your sister like that?!"

Helen spun around and stalked out of the dining room, shaking her head as she made her way to Quinn's bedroom. She thought that she should have known something like this was going to happen. What ever was going on at the time, Daria never could resist the opportunity to cause mischief with her sister. Helen had hoped that the urge would have gone away some now that they were getting along a little better, but no such luck it seemed. Walking up to Quinn's open door, Helen looked in and saw youngest daughter lying across the bed and looking absolutely miserable.

"Quinn?" Helen announced herself softly as she walked into the room. Quinn didn't look up. "Daria said that you were upset."

"Of course I'm upset! I tried and I tried to get this boyfriend thing right and I _just couldn't!_ I don't know who's going to catch my baby!" Quinn buried her face in her folded arms. "My whole life has been a lie!"

"Well, maybe you're just not ready for a steady boyfriend yet," Helen suggested as she sat down next to Quinn.

"All right! I admit it! You were right!" Quinn took her face out of her arms, and if anything, seemed to look worse. "I'm not mature enough to have a boyfriend!"

"Me??" Helen blinked. "I never said that you weren't mature enough to have a boyfriend."

"But you said that Daria was really mature to be in a relationship," Quinn said as she rolled over and sat up to face her mother. "So, if I'm not in a steady relationship, that makes me un-mature." _That didn't sound right_. "Or 'im?' "

"Quinn, having a boyfriend doesn't make you any more or less grown up," Helen explained. "And neither does having a baby, despite what Daria may have led you to believe. Dating Tom exclusively is what makes Daria happy, and if dating a lot of different boys makes you happy, than that's what you should do."

"But Daria and Tom --"

"Their situation is a little different, Quinn. They really don't have much of a choice anymore. At least Daria doesn't." Helen sighed, then looked at Quinn with a raised eyebrow. "And if you were thinking of going out and --"

"Mom! Eww!" Quinn said with a wince. "Trust me, not even in this lifetime!"

"Well, hopefully you'll change your mind on that someday." Helen looked at Quinn. Her other baby was growing up so fast too, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. "Just promise me that you'll get your birth control from a doctor and not a dispenser in some bathroom, okay?"

"Deal." Quinn looked at her mother, trying to place the expression on her face, but couldn't. "I better go and dump Jeffy now, hunh?"

"Only if you want to, sweetie," Helen said.

"Yeah, I'd better," Quinn said as she got off of the bed and left the room. "Thanks mom."

Helen slowly stood up and followed Quinn out of the room. Instead of heading directly downstairs, she went into the master bedroom and over to her dresser. She picked up a framed picture, a professionally done portrait photo really, that had been taken almost seventeen years ago. Helen sat back on the bed and looked at the picture for a long time.

Quinn was only a few weeks old, and wrapped in a pink blanket, while Daria was about a year and a half and wearing a small, green sleeper. Both seemed impossibly tiny back then, though Daria looked extremely serious about everything even then, and little Quinn's face was ever so animated.

Seventeen years, Helen thought. _Funny. It seems like it was only an hour ago.

* * *

_

"Hey Jeffy, I --" Quinn started to say as she walked back into the dining room, but found it empty, save for her sister, who was eating. "Where is everyone?"

"Apparently it takes three people to return a squirrel to its natural habitat," Daria said as she cut her ham steak with the side of her fork.

"Tom went too?" Quinn asked with disbelief as she walked around the table and sat down across from her sister.

"I guess part of me always knew that he'd return to the wild someday."

"Daria, do you think that guys and girls will ever understand each other? Like it's all part of some big, unfunny joke on us that we'll be struggling with for the rest of our lives?" Quinn immediately got Daria's full attention, knowing that Quinn very seldom got this serious. Daria was about to answer when Quinn looked down at the vegetable tray. "Oh look. Celery stalks."

Daria couldn't help but smile. She knew that her sister was going to be all right, at least as far as guys were concerned.

"Quinn, there's something that I've got to tell you," Daria said.

"I know you were pulling my leg about all the boyfriend stuff," Quinn said before Daria could go on any further. "Mom and I had a talk."

"It's not about that, though I am sorry."

"What then?" Quinn pushed Jeffy's plate away and retrieved her own.

"You've started smoking," Daria said.

"What?" Quinn glanced at the door, hoping that their mother wouldn't walk in at the wrong time. "I do not."

"Yes you do, Quinn. I saw you leaning out of your window one night with a cigarette," Daria said. "And I found an empty pack in the trash the night the squirrel knocked the cans over."

"Crap," Quinn whispered, knowing there was only one way out. "Okay, Daria, how much?"

"Huh?"

"How much for you not to tell mom and dad I smoke," Quinn asked.

"I'm not going to tell them that you've started smoking, Quinn."

"You're not?" Quinn was shocked. Daria never acted like this unless she had something up her sleeve. "I'm almost scared to ask, but why not?"

"Because, you're going to quit." Daria looked at Quinn as she raised an eyebrow.

"Daria, if you're worried about the baby, I've never smoked around you and you know it," Quinn said quickly. "I've only had two or three here at the house since I started and I'd never smoke around the baby!"

"And you're still going to quit."

"Why?" Quinn asked, getting defensive.

"Because Junior's going to want to see his Aunt Quinn to grow to be a ripe old fashion maven," Daria said, looking in to her sister's eyes. "And so do I."

Quinn shamefacedly looked down at her plate. She didn't have a come back for that one.

"All right, I'll quit," Quinn said, not looking up. "They're too expensive anyway."

"Good," Daria said with a smirk. There's going to be better things to spend your money on soon enough, anyway."

"Yeah, you're right." Quinn smiled back. "So, where do you think dad, Jeffy, and Tom went to release the squirrel?"

* * *

"Whoomp there it is!

"Whoomp there it is!

"Whoomp there it is!"

Jake, Tom, and Jeffy sang along with the blasting radio as they headed out to the relative wilderness with their captive squirrel.

"I love this song!" Jake said over the music as they passed a sign that said 'Leaving Lawndale County.' He bopped along with the song for a few more beats before he started looking for a wide spot in the road. "Think we're far enough out of town, fellas?"

"Let's give it a shot," Tom suggested from the passenger seat.

Jake spotted a place to pull off the road and brought the Lexus to a smooth stop. As soon as Jake put the car in 'Park,' Tom and Jeffy opened their doors, climbed out, and unloaded the cage trap from the back seat. Jake got out and walked around the back of the car, conscientiously closing Jeffy's door as he passed it. Tom and Jeffy carried the cage a few paces out towards the middle of the roadside clearing and put it on the ground.

"Turn him loose, boys," Jake said, leaning against the car for a moment.

Jeffy got down on one knee and pulled the release levers for the cage doors. Both he and Tom watched as the little gray squirrel hesitated for a couple of seconds, then dashed off into the forest.

"And there he goes," Tom said as the squirrel disappeared form view.

"You know, this would be a great place to go paint-balling," Jeffy said as he stood up and looked around.

"Yeah, or go camping," Tom said as he looked around as well. "What do you think, Mr. Morgendorffer?"

Tom's answer was the slam of a car door behind him. He and Jeffy whirled around as the tires on Jake's Lexus spun on the shoulder of the road for a moment, throwing gravel out behind it. The boys covered their heads with their arms as Jake turned the car hard and made a U-turn in the middle of the road.

"Hey!" Tom shouted as he ducked the spray of gravel. "Mr. Morgendorffer! What --?"

"Wait! Hey!" Jeffy called out as Jake sped of down the highway and back towards Lawndale. He ran to the highway to try and catch Jake, but all he could do was watch him drive off.

"Dammit!" Tom swore as he jogged up to where Jeffy stood.

"Dude, he ditched us!" Jeffy complained. "We've gotta be fifteen miles from town!"

"Well, not for long, hopefully," Tom said as he reached into one of the pockets of his cargo pants, pulled out his cell phone, and flipped it open. He looked at the small screen, and saw that the signal strength sucked.

"Why would he ditch us all the way out here?" Jeffy asked as he looked at Tom, and suddenly had the answer to his own question. "Hey, you're that guy who got Daria. . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Tom said, sounding disgusted as he hit the speed dial on his phone.

"Man, he must _really _hate your guts," Jeffy said as the two started walking.

"You think?" Tom said as he held the phone to his ear. "I just hope --oh, hello? Mrs. Morgendorffer? This is Tom Sloane . . . Well, yeah, you could say that. Listen, you're not going to believe this, but . . ."

to be continued

**__**

Author's notes: As always, first I have to thank all my Beta Readers, in no particular order: Angelinhel, Ajzin23, Kristen Bealer, Roger E. Moore, PolemArch, RLobinske, Steven Galloway. Thank you all for your suggestions, encouragements, reminders, the odd threat, and above all, patience. You all have been taking time out of your busy schedules to read and edit my work, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it all.

As usual, questions and comments can be sent to Greystar at hotmail dot com, and the invitation for artwork based on this or any of my stories is always open. (I'm starting to think these guys don't like email addresses!)

Stay Tuned and Enjoy!


	8. The Facts Of Life

**_Synopsis:_** Jane, Daria, and the former members of the Fashion Club face up to the changes in their lives.

**_Author's Forward:_** I am rating the following story PG-13 for content. The subject matter deals with teen pregnancy. I am not an advocate of teen pregnancy, and firmly believe that common sense should prevail in such cases. However, real life being what it is, this is not always the case.

The following story was written for entertainment purposes only, and _should not _be taken as educational material. I do not claim that the "technical" aspects of my story are even remotely accurate. If you have any questions, go to a responsible adult knowledgeable in the appropriate areas.

**_Other Notes:_** The author assumes that the reader is familiar with "Daria" and the characters therein, and has read my previous stories. This story is eight in the series and takes place concurrent with the events portrayed in "Life in The Past Lane."

**_Legal Drek_**: Daria and her cohorts are property of MTV and Viacom.

This story is Copyright May 20, 2006.

Daria

in

Facts of life

By Greystar

The only way to describe Main Street today was dead, Jane decided, looking over the empty thoroughfare as she followed a couple of paces behind Tom and Daria. With the exception of the three of them, the only other people that she could see were an old couple walking out of a coffee shop at the other end of the block. Places like Degas Street or the Lawndale Mall almost always had a steady flow of traffic but for some reason, Main Street was feast or famine. And today was definitely famine, despite banners hanging from every light pole proclaiming "Main Street Mania."

Jane chuckled to herself when she realized that she had been expecting to see Jake Morgendorffer's Lexus somewhere on the street. Thankfully, Jake was no longer following Daria and Tom around like a rabid watchdog since his attempt to maroon Tom and Jeffy in the country last week. According to Daria, the confrontation between Jake and Helen when she had returned with the two boys had been legendary.

"What ever happened to the big 'Revitalize Downtown Lawndale' plan?" Jane asked as the three of them crossed a side street.

"Dunno," Tom said sullenly. "They probably spent all of the money on flags."

Jane cocked an eyebrow slightly at Tom as they stopped for a moment outside the stationery store so Daria could lean up against the building and rest for a moment. Her OB/GYN, Dr. Nelson, had mandated some kind of exercise since she had been pulled form PE because of her pregnancy. At almost five and a half months along, it was now obvious that Daria was pregnant, despite her trying to cover it in the bulk of her jacket, which was now stretched a little tight over her expanded abdomen. Jane figured that it would be only another week or two before Daria wouldn't be able to get it zipped at all.

Despite all that, it was actually Tom that she was worried about at the moment. Normally, he could match Jane and Daria's snarky comments one for one, but over the last few days, Tom was decidedly off his game.

"You okay?" Tom asked Daria as she rubbed the small of her back.

"Just getting used to packing your kid around," Daria replied with a sigh. "Of course, we could ask you the same question."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's just say that you're not your usual cheery self these last couple of weeks," Jane said with a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh, well...Just some stuff around home. It's nothing." Tom shook his head and glanced across the street at the bank's outside clock. "Come on. We have to get to the post office before it closes."

"New wanted posters go up today?" Jane folded her arms and looked at the couple.

"No use trying to keep good news secret in this town." Daria stood back up and stretched, her hands still pressed into the small of her back.

Jane's artistic eye looked Daria over as she arched her back in an attempt to relieve muscles that weren't used to carrying the extra weight she had put on. Not all of it was confined to the almost five pounds that she had put on around her middle. Daria had confided that she had gone up almost half a cup in brassier size, much to Quinn's dismay at the sight, and her stretch had pushed her chest prominently against her jacket. Jane gave herself a hard mental shake as she discovered that her musings were passing _way_ beyond analytical.

"You coming?" Daria asked, mercifully finishing her stretch.

_Jeeze, Jane, get a grip, _Jane thought as she looked away in embarrassment, hoping that Daria hadn't noticed.

"Uh..." Unable to make eye contact with Daria for the moment, Jane looked down the side street and saw a young man walking into the stationery store they were standing in front of. He was well dressed, with fairly well chiseled features and his dark hair slicked back into a wavy part. Jane could almost feel her mental gears grind as they shifted.

"Actually, I really need an eraser. A nice, big, cute one." A wickedly dreamy expression crossed her features. "You guys go on ahead and I'll catch up with you at the pizza place."

Jane headed for the entrance to the store with a half-hearted wave and barely a look back, her sights set on the guy she had just seen go inside.

_That was just too damned weird. What is it with me? _Jane thought as she pushed the door open, a small bell ringing as she did so.

The old stationery store definitely gave the impression that it was, well, old. The smells of paper and parchments mixed with the tickle of dust in Jane's nose. Scents of inks, pigments, and solvents were as familiar to her as spices would be to a chef and she was able to sort them out of the air and pick up the sweet woodsy smell of cologne from the cute guy standing at the counter. His tie and suspenders, as well as the cut of his eggshell white shirt were decidedly out of date, though Jane was never much for keeping up with the styles. Set against the atmosphere of the stationery store, though, Jane thought that the whole outfit had an attractiveness all its own. And she was definitely attracted.

Biting her lower lip for a moment, Jane tried to look nonchalant as she walked up to the front counter of the store. Picking up a very expensive looking sable hair brush from a display rack on the counter, she ran the bristles over her fingertips, not really feeling them as she examined the guy through the corner of her eye. She could see that he was checking her out as well, all the while making a show of looking at an old fountain pen that he had picked up.

"Wow." Jane said, causing the guy to look up. "This place is so old, even the crayons have expired."

"It's really orbiting Planet Yesterday, huh?" His deep brown eyes met Jane's. "They don't make 'em like they used to."

"I really love this stuff! Photo corners, cloth typewriter ribbons, sealing wax..." Jane's artistic leanings were showing, but not enough to bring her away from the guy in front of her.

"Oh, look. Carbon paper." The guy looked down as the stack of matt black sheets that were sitting on the counter between them. Both he and Jane reached for the stack at the same time, then looked each other in the eyes when their hands touched.

"I'm Nathan," he said, offering his hand to her.

"Jane." She took his hand in hers. His grip was firm, but at the same time, somehow gentle.

"You know, I really ought to give this a test scribble before I buy it." Nathan's eyebrow went up slyly. "Maybe I could write down, say, a phone number?"

"How about mine?" Jane's expression was the picture of innocence. It would save her the trouble of slipping it into his pocket when he wasn't looking.

An hour later, she had caught up to Tom and Daria at Pizza King in their usual booth. Leaving her pizza untouched for nearly twenty minutes, Jane recounted her meeting with Nathan with an enthusiasm that she usually reserved for her artistic endeavors.

"...And he wears cuff links, and drives one of those big old cars with fins," Jane finished, finally coming up for air. "How great is that?"

Daria looked up from the chicken and veggie laden pizza that had become her standard fare over the past few months. "Do you think it's a good idea to pick up a perfect stranger while under the influence of ink well fumes? Even if he has come here from prehistoric times."

"Hey, if I didn't have the nerve to pick up guys, you wouldn't have a boyfriend." Jane cocked her eyebrow at her friend and finally took a bite of her pizza.

"Oh great." Daria rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to have to get knocked up by this guy too, am I?"

"Hey!" Jane nearly choked on her pizza. It took her a moment to notice that Tom, who should have been the most upset by Daria's retort, hadn't even noticed.

"What? I'm sorry, what'd you say?" Tom asked as Daria just shrugged.

"What?" Daria looked at her boyfriend. "I said I'm not going to have to -- Never mind, you're obviously not even in the same zip code as the rest of us today."

"Yeah, what gives?" Jane asked. "You've been moping around all afternoon."

"It's nothing. Really." Tom looked back at his pizza for a moment, then up at the girls. "Go on, Daria. What were you saying?"

"C'mon, Tom, what's going on?" Daria prodded.

"Well, it's just that..." Tom sighed and pushed his plate away. "After the thing in court, things between my parents started to get, well, a little chilly. I thought that it was just one of those things that they didn't talk about when Elsie and I were around. You know, repressed household and all that. But, mom and dad haven't spoken to each other _at all _for at least a week."

"Ouch." Jane winced.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't know. Why didn't you tell us it was getting that bad?" Daria asked.

"I didn't think that it was, really." Tom sat back into the corner of the booth and slumped a little. "I just thought that this was going to be one of those things that would eventually blow over. Okay, a fairly big thing, but still. Then, yesterday morning, Elsie told me that she heard mom on the telephone with a lawyer."

"Double ouch," Jane's eyebrows went up.

"Maybe Elsie heard wrong?" Daria suggested. "Maybe it had something to do with the museum?"

"I would have thought so, she only heard a couple of seconds before she hung back up, but...Last week, dad moved into one of the guest bedrooms on the other end of the house."

"Could always be worse," Jane said. "My parents haven't spoken in almost six months. Of course they're on different continents most of the time."

"This isn't remotely the same thing, Jane," Tom said, a clouded look passing over his face. "My parents aren't a couple of free spirits that can pick up their relationship after six months like they were taking a bookmark out of some cheesy art book!"

"Hey, just because your folks are having problems is no reason to rag on mine." Jane stood up and stormed out of the restaurant.

"Wait, Jane, I didn't mean -- aw crap." Tom slumped lower in the bench as the door closed behind Jane. "Well, that was intelligent. You know, one of these days I'm going to learn to keep my big mouth shut."

"But I don't understand why Sandi's still avoiding us," Stacy said as she, Quinn, and Tiffany walked across the street and began crossing the parking lot of the Lawndale Mall. "We've told her a bunch of times that we're still her friends and that we want to hang out with her and stuff, but she still won't talk to us or anything!"

"I know, Stacy," Quinn said.

"I've never seen Sandi stay mad this long before," Tiffany said. "And she keeps hanging out with Tori and Brooke more and more."

"Yeah, I've seen them." Quinn sighed. "You know, guys, we might just have to get used to the idea that Sandi doesn't want to be our friend any more."

"But I don't want her not to be my friend!" Stacy said sadly.

"Me either!" Tiffany put in.

"Guys, I don't want her to not be my friend any more than you don't, but I don't know what else to do."

"But, she's still president of the Fashion Club," Stacy pointed out. "How are we gong to have our meetings without her?"

"Maybe we should just pick a new president," Tiffany suggested.

"We can't. Sandi never resigned like she did when she broke her leg, remember?" Stacy pointed out. "We can't pick a new president without the old one quitting or graduating."

"Guys, maybe we should talk about doing that some other time, huh?" Quinn suggested in a slightly nervous voice. If there was going to be any chance of building a bridge with Sandi, then throwing the presidency of their club in her face wasn't going to help.

"But, how can we have a Fashion Club without a president?" Tiffany asked.

"Maybe its just time for the Fashion Club to end," Quinn suggested sadly.

"Quinn! Don't say that! There has to be a Fashion Club!" Stacy said quickly, earning a curious look from Quinn. "You don't understand. Sandi's been our friend since, like, first grade. We've always hung out and done everything together! Even in fifth grade, when everyone was laughing and making jokes about her braces!"

"Yeah." Tiffany shook her head. "Everyone was just so mean and everything. They called her all kinds of names and stuff. It's just too depressing to even think about."

Quinn could well understand that. She still had the pictures that Sandi's younger brothers had slipped to her a couple of years ago. If the names that those two had come up with were any indication of what she had been called way back then, it had been pretty horrible.

"C'mon, let's hit the cosmetics counter at Cashmans," Quinn said. "That'll cheer us up."

As the three walked up onto the sidewalk to the mall entrance, they had to sidestep a small crowd that had been gathered at some kind of stand outside the door. The whole thing wasn't much more than a box covered in a garish looking piece of cloth. Charles Ruttheimer, wearing an old golfer's cap, appeared to be paying off DeMartino, who was just leaving. Quinn immediately recognized it as one of Upchuck's schemes to either make money or meet girls. All three girls immediately started walking faster.

"Beauteous maidens," Charles said in his most solicitous voice as they passed. "May I show you something that will astound and amaze?"

"Upchuck, is this important?" Quinn asked. "Because we're really not in the mood for one of your slimy come-ons."

"Nothing of the kind, young lady! Simply...a feat of illusion."

"Like, contouring your nose to make it look thin?" Tiffany asked innocently, eliciting a gasp and surprised looks from Quinn and Stacy. "Not me!"

Charles suppressed a chuckle. Tiffany might not have been the swiftest, but on occasion there was a flash of a real sense of humor there, even if she didn't use it consciously.

"Please, ladies, spare just a moment to behold my astonishing magic skills! Observe!" Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. "Genuine U.S. currency! Which I shall now tear into tiny pieces!"

Taking the bill in his fingers, Charles proceeded to rip the bill into four equal strips. The three girls gasped as the ten dollar note was effectively destroyed before their eyes.

"That can't be legal!" Quinn sounded shocked that Upchuck could do something like that.

"Ah, but wait!" Charles made a show of crumpling the strips between his hands. "Through the commanding force of my virile presence, the bill is magically restored!"

Charles held the bill in both hands, showing the front and back to the girls to prove that it was indeed undamaged. Quinn, Tiffany, and Stacy sighed in relief.

"Wow," Stacy said in amazement. "How'd he do that?

"Maybe he used mirrors or something?" Tiffany said slowly.

"Okay, yeah it was kind of cool, but it was only a ten," Quinn pointed out. "It's not like it was a fifty."

"Well then, ladies, perhaps I could hold your interest with another feat of prestidigitation?" Charles gestured grandly towards his garishly decorated stand.

"Actually, we were going shopping, Upchuck," Quinn said.

"Um, I'd kind of like to see what he can do, Quinn," Stacy said bashfully. "Is it all right if I catch up with you later?"

"I guess so," Quinn shrugged.

"I'd like to stay and watch too," Tiffany said.

"Oh, what the heck?" Quinn sighed. "Maybe he can pull a rabbit out of his hat or something."

"Well, I'm not quite that good yet, but..." Charles took his golfing hat off and reached inside it. With a flourish and a flick of his wrist a fluffy, pink paper flower seemed to snap into existence from the empty space. He presented it to Stacy with a slight bow.

Stacy simply blinked wide-eyed at the flower while the other two actually clapped a little.

"How's that for a start?" Charles asked with a slight smile.

Jane tossed her math textbook into her locker with a groan. It didn't matter how much she struggled with it, she just couldn't get the hang of algebra without help. She had spent most of the weekend trying to work her way through it on her own, without Daria's help. Normally, Daria knew how to translate the gobbledygook in the textbook into something that Jane could understand and then put down on paper as something that the math teacher could understand.

Fortunately, her weekend wasn't all work and no play since she'd had a date with Nathan on Sunday afternoon.

_How did I let him talk me into this?_ Jane asked herself with a small smile as she glanced down at the yellow, fifties style dress and high heels that she was wearing. Almost as soon as she'd gotten home Sunday, she'd gone up to the attic and gotten into her mom's old clothes. Most of them actually fit, and Jane had found a couple of outfits that actually looked pretty good.

"Hey stranger," Jane heard Daria's voice from over her shoulder. She looked up and saw Daria coming down the hall. Her backpack was slung over her shoulder as usual, but her jacket hung open, showing a longer than usual t-shirt in her normal brown mustard color. "Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Been hanging out with Nathan," Jane said with a shrug.

"I had a hunch." Daria took in Jane's new outfit with a dubious look. "Heard any good barbershop quartets lately?"

"No, but we went to an antique car show on Sunday, and we're starting Foxtrot lessons tonight."

"Sounds great. Except for the car show and Foxtrot part."

"Hey, dancing is fun, Daria," Jane said defensively. "That's more than I can say for you these days."

"Come on, do I look like I'm in any shape for dancing?" Daria held her free arm out and looked down at her abdomen.

"Yeah, I suppose there is that," Jane agreed.

"Besides, a few weeks ago you would have been laughing at this too, you know," Daria pointed out.

"Oh, come off it, Daria. So I'm expanding my horizons beyond school, pizza, and television. What's the big deal?" Jane glared at Daria. "Just because you and Tom are in a rut doesn't mean that you have to put Nathan and me down."

"At least we weren't doing the Foxtrot when we tripped and fell in it," Daria said with a glare of her own.

"Oh ha," Jane said icily as she spun on her high heel and left.

"Hey, come back!" Jane heard Daria call out, but she bit her lip and kept on walking. "Do you know your seams are crooked?"

Rounding a corner, Jane lengthened her stride as much as the cut of her skirt would let her and bit back a caustic response. She couldn't understand why it was such a big damn surprise to everyone that she was trying something new and different. She'd done things like this before -- trying out for the track team, even keeping up her 'conventional teenager' look a few days after O'Neill's screwy success at failure assignment. Every time she tried something new, someone had something to say about it.

_It never really bothered me before. If other people couldn't deal with it, that was their problem, so the heck with them,_ Jane thought as she walked down the corridor. _Why now? What the hell _is _it with me?_

"So, pizza?" Tom asked as he and Daria slipped out of the Cineplex on the edge of the departing crowd. When he didn't get an immediate answer, he turned to see Daria giving him a curious look. "What? You okay?"

"Tom, do you think that we're getting in a rut?" Daria asked after a moment's thought.

"Where'd that come from?"

"Jane," Daria sighed. "I mean look at me, I'm not exactly in shape for an exciting social life any more while she's off co-piloting a time machine."

"You mean Nathan?" Tom asked.

"Don't you think he sounds a little pretentious?"

"Is that any way to talk about your future boyfriend?" Tom asked with a smirk, his old sense of humor beginning to poke through.

"Hey!" Daria glared and crossed her arms.

"What'd I say?" Tom asked innocently, eliciting a groan from his girlfriend. "Come on. Let's shake up our routine and go someplace crazy."

A short time later, Tom and Daria were getting out of his car in the parking lot of the Finias T Firefly restaurant that had recently opened. Once inside, Daria spent a moment looking at the memorabilia that was plastered all over the walls: pictures of stars past and present, sporting equipment of almost every variety, and at least half a dozen different types of musical instruments.

"Well, you wanted someplace crazy, I'd say this qualifies," Daria said as the hostess walked them to their table.

"You know what they say -- be careful what you wish for," Tom said with a smirk as he helped Daria slip into her side of the booth before taking his own seat.

"Tom," Daria hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Why didn't you say anything about your parents having problems?"

"I just figured that you had enough on your mind already." Tom looked at the menu without really seeing it.

"It's my bladder he's on, not my mind," Daria said with a slight grimace.

"You finally found out the gender?" Tom asked with raised eyebrows. One of the things Daria had avoided finding out was the gender of their child.

"No, and don't change the subject. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, because I wasn't really sure until now. You see, my folks don't fight in front of us if it can be helped. Whatever they have to say to each other, they usually say it behind closed doors, and usually very loudly. We figure out the rest by reading between the lines." Tom sighed. "This time, though, they're not saying anything to each other, and I have no idea what's going on. It's a little hard to read between the lines if there are none, you know what I mean?"

"Here I've been worrying about this Nathan guy being a complete jerk." Daria slumped back in her seat. "It turns out I've been worrying about the wrong jerk."

"Thanks, but I'm going to be okay."

"Not you. Me."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I should have never have let mom push the child support thing. If I'd fought her on it, then your family wouldn't be coming apart at the seams and Aunt Amy wouldn't have had to relive the worst part of her life." She slumped down sadly. "I don't know what makes me the bigger jerk -- that I didn't think about it or that I let it happen in the first place."

"Wait a minute, you think you're responsible for what's going on with my folks?" Somehow, the train had changed tracks and left him behind at the switch.

"Aren't I?"

"No. Look, something like this would have probably happened anyway, eventually. Or maybe not at all. The point is that it's just one of those things that happens. It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry, Tom, it's just . . . I feel a certain responsibility for everything that's happened. I know it doesn't make any sense, but . . ."

"Yeah, I do too," Tom admitted reluctantly. "But we've got to give things a chance."

"I guess," Daria reluctantly conceded as she picked up her menu.

She had barely more than a few seconds to look over the selections before a blonde waitress arrived. The suspenders she wore over her shirt seemed to have no earthly purpose other than to hold the dozen or so garish pins that she wore.

"Hi, I'm Debbie, your server," she chipperly announced as she walked up. "Would you care for a free Sour Cream Supreme Potato Skin with your order today?"

"Gee, I bet you say that to all the customers," Daria said dryly.

"If I don't, you get a free five dollar Finias T. Firefly gift certificate, good at any of our two hundred and forty locations across the country!"

"In that case, I'll take two, along with the honey chicken stir-fry," Daria said, closing the menu. "Sorry, Tom, but I just realized I'm starved."

"Uh, yeah," Tom said slowly. He had been about to suggest that they ditch the place and go for their usual pizza, but instead he looked up at Debbie patiently waiting with her note pad for him to order. "I'll have the same, I guess."

"Well, at least I can tell Jane she was wrong," Daria said as Debbie took their menus and walked away.

"About what?"

"Jane thought we were getting in a rut." Daria smiled slightly. "Wait until I tell her about this place."

"How about this one?" Jake said hopefully as he passed a white card across the table to Helen, who glanced at the card and frowned.

"Jake, you are not making that horrible kitchen sink stew again!" Helen's tone was enough to convince Jake not to press that particular entree. "We've got to make sure she gets the proper nutrition now."

"But it's nutritious! Just look at --"

"The last time you made it, it turned your tongue black and you spent most of the night in the bathroom, and that was just from one spoonful." Helen took the card from Jake's hand and put it on one of the piles off to her right, the one that would eventually go through her shredder. "No chance."

"Darn it." Jake pouted and went back to going through his own stack of cards.

"Hey, anyone home?" Someone said from the living room as Helen heard the front door close.

"In the kitchen, Amy," Helen called out as she went back to sorting out the more begin dishes from Jake's recipe file. "How was work?"

"Long and too damn quiet," Amy said as she walked into the kitchen. She dropped her handbag next to the doorway to the kitchen. "Everybody's been walking on eggshells there for the past couple of weeks. I think they're all waiting for this thing between Kay Sloane and me to blow up royally." Amy took a seat at the kitchen table. "What've you two been up to?"

"Sorting the more volatile selections from Jake's recipe file." Helen dropped the few cards that she was holding. "Amy, I'm ready to go nuts. I've got to go back to work soon."

"So? Go."

"It's not really that easy. I practically had to resign to be able to get my leave of absence, and I wasn't too nice about how I went about it, either." She looked off to the side and frowned. "I'll have to go back to Eric on my knees to get back in. Not that he'd ever go out of his way to find out when I wanted to come back."

"So go someplace else. It's not like you were an indentured servant," Amy said as she idly flipped through the recipe cards. "You've probably got a client list a mile long, and any firm around here would jump at something like that."

"Unfortunately, it's not that easy." Helen sighed. "All of the clients are clients of the firm as a whole, not just the individual associates. I can't just walk out of there with my files under my arm."

"So hit them up when you get to someplace else. There's no law against that, is there?" Amy frowned at the card she had picked up. "What the hell is 'Mongolian goulash bolognaise?'"

"Hey, I've been looking for that one!" Jake piped up

"Jake remember what I said" Helen warned with a shake of her head, then turned back to her sister. "The problem with that idea is Eric. By the time I got set up someplace else, Eric would have my professional name dragged through the mud. My other clients wouldn't follow me then if I begged them."

"You could always go into business for yourself," Amy suggested.

"Easy for you to say," Helen chuckled.

"You think there's a lot of business for freelance art appraisers?"

"Not really. Speaking of which, what are you going to do?"

"About Kay Sloane and the museum," Amy shrugged. "Not much I can do. Besides, it's kind of the only game in town right now."

"Even after what you just told me?" Helen looked surprised. "Aren't you worried that the situation might be a little tense? Even after the court case?"

"A little." Amy said as the telephone started ringing. "Thankfully, I'm not the one she's pissed at. She's got me tagged as one of the victims in this whole mess."

"Just a second." Helen turned and put the receiver to her ear. "Hellooooo...Yes, this is Helen Morgendorffer...Mrs. Horowitz!"

"Who's that?" Amy asked.

"Just another stuffed shirt from that law firm of hers," Jake grumbled as he kept sorting.

"Quiet! She's one of the senior partners!" Helen whispered rapidly. "Yes, I'm aware of the ATC motors case...Tomorrow? I can, but you should be aware that I'm on leave of absence...Yes, my daughter. I wasn't aware that you knew...Of course, nine a.m. sharp...Goodbye."

"Well, speak of the devil," Amy smirked.

"I'll say." Helen dropped the phone and headed out of the kitchen at a fast walk. "I've got to get to the dry cleaners before they close! Find something in there for dinner, okay? I'll be back later."

"Aaaaand she's off!" Amy said to herself with a smile as she started sorting through the cards that were spread out on the table. "Well, let's see what we've got here...'Egyptian sauerkraut?' Eww!"

"Hey, you found my Egyptian sauerkraut recipe?" Jake perked up. "I've been looking for that!"

Amy put the card on the table in front of her, keeping it from his reach. "Keep looking, Jakie."

"Ladies, ladies, please!" Charles Ruttheimer said as he walked down the corridor of the school with Quinn, Tiffany, and Stacy --voluntarily! -- walking along beside him. "I wish I could quench your curiosity, but I cannot reveal my secrets. It's the Magician's Code."

"But I have to know how you did it!" Stacy pleaded. "I can't get it out of my mind!"

"C'mon, Upchuck, it's just one little trick," Quinn prodded.

"It's not just 'one little trick,' my dear. It is a classic staple of the art of Slight of Hand." Upchuck shook his head. "As a member of the Magicians Brotherhood, I cannot tell you how the illusion is performed. I am sorry."

"But Upchuck, we want to know how to do it toooo," Tiffany drawled.

"Ladies, this is unfair," Charles said with a sigh. "Using your combined charms to wile your way into my heart and learn what you wish to know is truly diabolical. However, as temped as I am, it is still no deal."

"Upchuck, come off the mysterious crap for once, all right?" Stacy said in frustration. "What do we have to do to learn that trick?"

"Hmmm," Charles stopped walking and thought for a moment. "Well, there is one way..."

"If you're about to suggest something gross, we're going right to Ms. Barch," Quinn stated with a glare.

"No, no, nothing like that!" Charles said, looking momentarily terrified. "Really, I am a gentleman, after all. However, Ms Li is planning to put on a fundraiser for more of her precious security equipment. Consequently, she has approached me and 'requested' that I perform some of the more interesting illusions that I know. And I do need an assistant...Or three."

"I'll do it!" Stacy immediately said.

"Stacy!" Quinn sounded shocked, while Tiffany just looked it.

"But I want to know how he did it! C'mon, guys, it'll be fun!"

"I don't know..."

"Well now, isn't this pathetic," Sandi Griffin's husky voice cut into the conversation. She walked up to the group with the tanned, blonde Tori Jericho in tow. "Notice, Tori, how far the mighty have fallen to be seen in public with the great un-bathed of geekdom."

"Yeah, I know. He's even unpopular among the geeks," Tori supplied.

"And a pleasant good afternoon to you, ladies," Charles said, unfazed by the girls' verbal barbs. "We were just discussing Ms Li's most recent endeavor to raise funds for our illustrious Lawndale High. Would you care to participate in our discussion?"

"Upchuck, any kind of conversation involving you isn't worth the time to say 'shove it.'" Sandi glared at Charles for a brief moment, then turned on the three girls. "I merely came to advise Stacy and Tiffany that, as president of the Fashion Club, I have decided that they are welcome to return to their positions on a _probationary_ basis."

"Buuut, what about Quinn?" Tiffany asked.

"Kuh-winn has proven that she is disloyal and cannot be trusted."

"But she's vice president of the club," Stacy pointed out.

"No longer. Tori has recently been appointed to that position." Sandi glanced at Tori, who smiled brightly.

"Really, I thought that you promised _Brooke_ the vice president spot if she lied for you in that court thing." Quinn looked at Sandi with a raised eyebrow.

"A vice president who cannot follow simple instructions adequately is unacceptable, as you have proven time and again." Sandi glared at Quinn, while Tori's smile faded slightly. "However, Quinn, if you would like to rejoin the Fashion Club, I believe that the new vice president and I can agree on giving you probationary status as a sub-junior member."

Charles silently leaned back against the nearby wall and folded his arms as he watched the byplay between Quinn and Sandi. If they decided that he was going to be invisible for this conversation, then he definitely was going to stand back and enjoy the show.

"But, Quinn didn't do anything wrong, Sandi," Stacy said, stepping forward.

"Really, Stacy," Sandi sneered as she stepped up and glared at Stacy from less than a foot away. "Are you saying that my recollection of events is inaccurate?"

"Uh, well," Stacy flinched back a half a step as her resolve started to crumble.

"I thought not." Sandi backed off a pace. "I would suggest that you reconsider where your loyalties lie, ladies, unless you want your popularity to suffer for it."

Sandi turned and stalked off with Tori in tow. Charles looked at the retreating girls -- specifically their backsides -- for a moment before looking back at the girls standing next to him.

"Well now." Charles raised his eyebrows in Stacy's direction. "I was beginning to fear that we were going to have a fight on our hands."

"Yeah, me too," Stacy said in a shaky voice. "She didn't have to do that."

"No, she didn't." Quinn glared in the direction that Sandi and Tori went for a moment. "But if she wants to make this about being popular...Hey, Upchuck?"

"Yes, Quinn my sweet?" Charles immediately straightened up.

"If we do this magic thing, you promise to make us look good?"

"Ladies, you shall be the very centers of attention," Charles said with a smile.

"You won't make us look fat?" Tiffany asked.

"Tiffany, my dear, you shall be a svelte goddess on stage next to Ruttheimer the Prestidigator." _Hm, that sounds pretty good. I'll have to use that._

"Is that good?"

"Of course it is," Charles chuckled. "Come, ladies, and let us discuss the subject of magic."

Helen took a deep breath as she pulled the SUV into one of the visitor parking spaces. She still wasn't sure how this meeting with Mrs. Horowitz was going to go and had resisted the urge to use the spot that she normally did with the rest of the senior associates.

_Okay Helen, just relax,_ she thought to herself. _It's just a meeting -- with the number three partner at the firm! Oh my god, what could this be about? She wanted to know how familiar I was with the ATC case...Did I miss something, juggling that case with Daria's? Oh lord, what if I did! _She took another deep breath. _Well, sitting here isn't going to make this any easier._

Stepping out of the SUV, Helen pulled herself up straight and plastered on her going-to-court face in an attempt to cover how nervous she was. Expecting every eye to in the place to be on her the minute she walked through the door, she was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was almost business as usual. She stopped for a moment at the receptionist's desk to confirm her meeting with Mrs. Horowitz, and then proceeded to the floor her office was on.

The door was partially closed, Helen saw as she walked down the hall. She figured she'd better check and see if there was any furniture left, though she wouldn't have put it past Eric to have had it doled out by now. As she reached for the door, it was suddenly pulled open from the other side. Marianne yelped as she walked out of the office door and almost ran into Helen.

"Helen! You're back?" Marianne asked as she tried to catch her breath.

"To be honest, I'm not sure. I've got a meeting with Mrs. Horowitz in a few minutes." Helen slowly walked into the office and glanced around. "So, Eric hasn't given my office to someone else yet?"

"He wouldn't do that Helen," Marianne said with a chuckle that didn't project a whole lot of confidence in the statement.

"I suppose not. He'd get a bigger laugh out of turning it into a broom closet," Helen said with a grim look settling on her face as she turned and left her office.

Making her way to the conference room, she was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost didn't hear Eric's voice as he walked around the corner with another attorney, whom Helen recognized almost immediately. Eric, who wasn't looking where he was going, collided with Helen, coming to a screeching halt as he turned to face forward.

"Watch where you're -- Helen!" Eric took a step backwards. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Eric, good to see you again," Helen said with all the false civility that she could muster before turning a cocked eyebrow at the man with him. "And Mr. Moore, this is a surprise. How...nice to see you outside the court room."

"Likewise, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Moore said, adjusting his tie. "Pity Kay Sloane couldn't have waited five more minutes, I would have liked to have heard the judges decision that day."

"Could be Kay was just saving you the disappointment," Helen said coldly. "As for why I'm here, Eric, Mrs. Horowitz called me in for some kind of meeting."

"Really." Eric's tone was enough to tell Helen that their meeting wasn't turning out to be the coincidence she thought it was. "Tell ya what, Roger, let's continue this at lunch, huh?"

"Your expense account or mine?" Roger chuckled as he turned to go. "Later, Eric. A pleasure to see you again, Helen."

"You'll forgive me if the feeling isn't mutual," Helen said flatly.

"Yow, feisty woman," Roger muttered as he walked past.

_Jerk,_ Helen thought icily, giving him a dirty look in response.

"Oh good, you're both here," an older woman said as she came up the corridor behind Helen. She was slightly taller than Helen, her salt and pepper hair tied back professionally in a loose bun. Her business suit was a severely cut silver-gray jacket and skirt combination that ended below the knees.

"Mrs. Horowitz. Good Morning," Helen said pleasantly.

"Morning, Gladys," Eric said with a nod.

"Let's step into the conference room, shall we?" Mrs. Horowitz said as she walked past them and opened the large, mostly glass door.

A large oaken table flanked by high-backed chairs on both sides dominated the firm's conference room. The wall opposite the door was covered with shelf after shelf after shelf of law books and reference material. Sitting on the table were several thick folders in neat stacks.

"So, take a seat and let me explain why you're here," Mrs. Horowitz said as she took the seat at the head of the table. "ATC Motors. Helen, you said you were familiar with the case?"

"Most of the particulars," Helen replied as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

"She's been out of the loop for the last couple of months," Eric said as he took the seat immediately to the left of Horowitz. "She was helping out with the case up until her little vacation, but everything's going along fine without her."

"Is it?" Horowitz cocked an eyebrow at Eric.

"Swimmingly."

"Then why is it that their in-house lawyers are calling me and telling me that the whole thing is on the verge of collapse because you aren't pursuing the supplier negligence angle?" Horowitz gaze leveled on Eric. "From what I hear, that's practically the lynchpin of the other side's entire case."

"Yes, well, we knew that their suppliers were cutting their own costs, and the quality of the inspections was dramatically dropping--" Helen started to say, but was cut off by Eric.

"What Helen _means _is that the suppliers were one lead out of a _dozen _possibilities," Eric said smoothly, shooting a hard look at Helen as he spoke. "It takes time to follow them all and weed out the dead ends from a legitimate line of questioning."

"Does this include taking time out to bring a lawsuit against one of the biggest charity firms in the world?"

"Now that wasn't my fault, I had bad cell phone reception!" Eric sat up defensively.

"Excuse me, suing a charity?" Helen asked, sounding confused.

"He tried to bring a suit against Unicef in connection with some faulty tires --made by Uni_royal_ -- which turned out to be a pure nuisance suit to begin with." Both Mrs. Horowitz and Helen looked at Eric, who was blushing furiously. "Turns out he got the case work mixed in with the plans for our annual charity fundraiser this Halloween."

"Gladys, that's not fair," Eric said. "I've been trying to make progress on six major cases ever since Helen _walked out,_ working ten and twelve hour days six days a week --"

"How is that any different from my job?" Helen asked archly. "God, I'd have given anything for _just_ a twelve-hour day!"

"Hold it, you two," Gladys stood, holding up a hand and forestalling the argument before it could get any momentum built up. "I think I've got the solution to all of this. Helen, when do you feel you'll be coming back to work?"

"Uh, I can start on Monday," Helen said after a moment of stunned silence.

"Now wait a minute, she's not on your staff," Eric protested.

"Eric, you're tired," Gladys continued as though he hadn't spoken. "Come Monday morning, we're going to be farming out some of your case load around the office -- including ATC."

"What?" Eric stammered. "I've been working on that from the beginning!"

"No, you've been overseeing your staff and taking credit for their work is what you've been doing." Gladys nodded at Helen. "From what I've been reading, Helen appears to have done most of the work on the case."

"Well," Helen said slowly.

"Helen, I want you to take the weekend, relax, and get your game face back on. Starting Monday morning, you're going to be taking point on ATC Motors."

"Uh...t-t-taking point?" Helen blinked.

"She's..." Eric couldn't seem to continue.

"I know this is a bit of a shock, but from what I've read, you're going to need the least amount of time to get up to speed." Gladys sat back down. "I've spoken to the judge and gotten a continuance, but you're back in court on Wednesday, whether we're ready or not. I need you to hit the ground running on this."

"No problem, Mrs. Horowitz, you can count on me," Helen said. She was practically salivating at the chance to get back to work.

"Oh sure! I see how it is!" Eric rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I ask you to do the same thing and you're walking out the door!"

"Eric, you demanded that I treat my daughter like some kind of hobby!" Helen replied hotly.

"Yes, Eric, put a sock in it, will you?" Gladys rolled her eyes. "I'm also very aware of the situation with your oldest girl, Helen, so I'll let you write your own schedule as much as possible so you can spend time with your daughter."

"Thank you, Mrs. Horowitz," Helen said with relief.

"Now, why don't you go and let your secretary know you're back, and I'll have this all sent over to your office so you can decide which of the junior associates you want on your staff for this." Gladys stood up and offered Helen her hand.

"I'll get on it right away," Helen said, shaking the senior partner's hand before turning and heading for the door with a new determination.

"Now, Eric," Helen heard Mrs. Horowitz say as she left. "Let me explain what kind of an ass you almost made of yourself..."

"Hey, wait up!"

Jane had been thinking that she was getting the hang of the unfamiliar high heels that she was wearing with the pink and white, fifties era outfit she had on, when she turned around, staggering momentarily. Her hair was gathered back into a white net, and her usual half a dozen silver earrings had been replaced by a single onyx and gold square in each lobe. She saw Daria coming out of the school entrance, not making any great time herself.

"You know, you're lucky I have more trouble walking in heels than you do with that belly of yours," Jane said with a slight smirk.

"I consider myself lucky I can walk at all," Daria said. "Listen, I'm sorry I gave you a hard time about your boyfriend."

"You don't have to write people off before you get to know them, you know," Jane said with a raised eyebrow.

"But, I thought that was what you liked about me," Daria replied with a similarly cocked eyebrow.

"Well, given your condition and all, I guess I can forgive you." Jane chuckled and held out her arms in front of her and looked her outfit over. "Besides, this retro thing is pretty silly. I mean, I'm wearing a snood!"

"I was trying not to notice," Daria said, knowing that the hair net was the first thing she had seen that morning.

"Ah hell, it's just for fun." Jane chuckled again, crossing her arms. Nathan did tend to take it a little too seriously, though. She remembered how freaked out he had become when his hair had gotten slightly mussed that night. But he was a pretty good kisser, so it evened out in the end.

"I'm finally beginning to figure that out." Daria took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"You okay? Want to sit down someplace?" Jane asked, looking concerned.

"I'd love to, but the effort of getting back up again just isn't worth it." Daria looked down at her stomach. "I swear, I've gained at least fifteen pounds in the last six months, and it's all stomach."

"Hey, here's Nathan," Jane said, turning as she heard a car pull into the parking circle. The car was a vintage baby blue sedan with fins on the back that rivaled the current incarnation of the Bat-mobile. "Need a ride home?"

"Um, actually, I'm waiting for Tom," Daria said tiredly. "I've got an appointment with Dr. Nelson after school."

"Want us to wait with you?"

"I wouldn't mind the company," Daria said honestly.

"Hey, good lookin'," Nathan said as he leaned out the open driver side window.

"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" Jane said with a wicked smirk as she walked over and leaned in for a quick smooch. "Daria's waiting for Tom to take her to an appointment. Do you mind hanging out for a little while?"

"No problem. For you, I've got all night." Nathan opened the door and stepped out, adjusting his tie and fedora. "Hey Daria."

"Hey," Daria greeted him sullenly as she leaned against the side of his car. She noticed that the pattern on Nathan's tie and on the pockets of Jane's outfit were identical tiny pink polka-dots. "Matching dress and tie. Copasetic."

"Hey, you speaketh the jive!" Nathan said, his face lighting up.

"I dabble." Daria shrugged.

"That's a swinging look you've put together, Daria. Catholic School Girl meets Kings Road London, circa eighty-three," Nathan said as he looked over Daria's usual outfit, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"And here I was going for circa eighty-two," Daria replied in mock defeat.

"So, where's your appointment? I could drop you off," Nathan offered.

"Over at the Medical Arts Partners building," Jane replied automatically.

"That's okay, Nathan. Tom'll be here in a minute," Daria said, looking around for Tom's car.

"Gonna get me some more pictures of the little belly buster?" Jane said, quickly reaching out and patting Daria's expansive abdomen.

"Only if you stop that!" Daria said, pushing Jane's hand away. "You're burning up godmother points here, you know."

"Sure, spoil my fun," Jane said with a smirk as she leaned against the car next to Daria and draped her arm around her shoulder, much to Daria's embarrassment.

Jane and Daria turned at the sound of a familiar car horn as Tom's battered Jag pulled into the parking circle. Neither of them saw Nathan's eyebrow drop slightly as he continued to give Daria a critical eye.

"Hey, speak of the devil," Jane said as Tom pulled to a stop behind Nathan's car.

"Hey Daria, Jane, Nathan," Tom said as he got out, leaving the engine running. "Sorry I'm late, Seven Corners was a mess. Ready?"

"Hey, Daria, do you guys want to hang out with us Friday?" Jane asked as Daria straightened up. "We're going to check out this movie theater outside town."

"What do you think, you feel up to it?" Tom asked.

"Um, sure," Daria said after a long moment. "That sounds . . . fun."

"Swingin', we'll pick you up at Jane's on Friday," Nathan said.

Jane could tell by Daria expression that she wasn't what she was feeling -- that she'd probably swallow a handful of live ants than go out anywhere. But she was trying, and Jane knew that any excuse Daria could grab onto to get out of the house was taken.

"Great, we'll see you then," Tom said as Jane and Daria walked over to the passenger side of the Jag and Daria sank gratefully into the seat.

"Cool, later." Jane walked around the front of Nathan's car and pulled the passenger door open to climb in.

"So, what's her story?" Nathan asked as he got behind the wheel and closed the door.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious that she's gut a bun in the oven," Nathan said as Tom's car pulled past them. "I just want to know what she's about is all."

"She _is_ going to have a baby, yes. The neat part about it is that Tom happens to be the father of said baby."

"Uh-huh. And he's also your ex-boyfriend too, right?" Nathan pulled out into traffic.

"Yeah. What's that got to do with it?"

"Nothing at all. Gotta figure that the guy's eighteen-carat to be sticking around after something like that happens, that's all."

"Something like what?" Jane asked with an edge creeping into her voice.

"Whoa, hey, don't get me wrong, sweet heart," Nathan said lightly. "It's just that most people that I know wouldn't come inside a stone's throw of that situation. I'm just sayin', you know?"

"Mmm." Jane cocked her eyebrow at Nathan for a moment before turning back to the scenery passing outside the vehicle.

"So, Daria, anything big going on this week?" Dr. Samantha Nelson, Daria's OB/GYN asked as she pumped up the blood pressure cuff on Daria's arm.

"Not really, why do you ask?" Daria asked as she blankly watched the silver liquid in the thermometer-like gauge hover at almost one-ninety.

"Well, your blood pressure's a little high this time," Dr. Nelson replied as she opened the valve to let some of the air out of the cuff. She stopped it after only a moment, frowning slightly. "One-forty over ninety-five. Not too bad, but it could be better."

"Well, let's see. I've gained something like fifteen pounds, gone up a bra size, and have to go to the bathroom about twice as often as before." Daria absently rubbed the bandage that covered the fingertip where the doctor had pricked it earlier. "My Aunt Amy's back in town and mom's going back to work on Monday. All in all, everything's as normal as could be expected."

"What about your dad?"

"He's been pretty quiet lately," Daria said as Nelson removed the blood pressure cuff from her arm. She glanced at Tom, standing next to the exam table that she sat on.

"You could say that." Tom confirmed. "He actually has been pretty docile the last couple of weeks. At least after your mom got through with him over what happened."

Daria grimaced and nudged Tom in the ribs with her elbow.

"Why? What happened?" Dr. Nelson asked.

"It's actually a long story," Tom said as he and Daria exchanged bemused glances. "Let's just say that family Thanksgivings are going to be real interesting."

"Tom..."

"Uh-huh," Nelson said with a raised eyebrow and sensing a wider ranging story than she was getting. "Anyone care to elaborate further?"

"Not really," Daria said sullenly as she and Tom shared a look.

"Are the two of you having problems?"

"No, of course not," Tom replied as Daria shook her head.

Dr. Nelson sighed as she put down her stethoscope and made a few notes in Daria's file. Once she was done, she pulled a desk chair around and sat down facing the examination table that Daria was reclined on.

"Okay, for the most part, everything's fine," Dr. Nelson said as she crossed her legs. "Your hemocrits have dropped some, but that's normal for this far into your pregnancy, and I want you to start taking the iron supplements again. Second, like I said before, your blood pressure has gone up some. I want you to try and take it easy and relax. Avoid stress if you can."

"Does that mean you're going to give me a note to get out of the next three months of school?" Daria asked wryly.

"Unfortunately, I can't do that--"

_Damn,_ Daria thought.

"-- But I can talk to your folks and teachers and see if we can't work something out. Would you like me to do that?"

"No, I'll do it," Daria said. "With my aunt back in town, the four of us ought to be able to come up with something."

"Okay, great. I'll leave that in your hands." Nelson took a deep breath. "There's one other thing, though."

"What?"

"Your ultrasound images."

"There's not something wrong, is there?" Tom asked with obvious concern.

"No, no, there's nothing wrong. Everything is perfectly normal -- except for the fact that every other parent I've worked with has been more than willing, if not eager to get their hands on their ultrasound pictures. Except you. You won't even look at the screen, and the copies you take you seal in envelopes and give to your friend Jane." She put both feet back on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Now I'm no psychiatrist, but to me all of this points to a serious case of denial."

"Doctor, I'm not denying that I'm pregnant," Daria said, looking down at her abdomen. "In fact, it's rather obvious by now, I think."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I'm worried that you're going to be having problems bonding with the baby when it comes. That kind of thing can be as serious as _any _kind of health problems I can think of. Like I said, I'm no psychiatrist, but it does have me a little concerned."

"I don't think I'm going to have any problems 'bonding' with my child, doctor," Daria said flatly. "Are we through?"

_Not by a long shot,_ Nelson thought, but knew when to cut her losses when delving into unfamiliar territory. "Okay, yeah, I suppose we're done for today. But I want you to think about what I said. I'll contact you in a couple of weeks, and we'll talk then, all right?"

"I suppose I can't stop you," Daria said as she rolled off the table and collected the manila envelope with the latest set of ultrasound images for Jane. "Later."

"See ya, doc," Tom said, following Daria out of the exam room.

Dr. Nelson sat in the empty room for a moment after the two teens had left. She picked up Daria's file and looked over her notes from previous visits and decided to go with her first hunch.

_I don't care what that girl said, she's got problems other than reactionary parents,_ Nelson thought as she closed the file and rolled the chair back over to the desk. Picking up the phone, she dialed a four digit extension.

"Hi, this is Dr. Nelson," she said as someone picked up the other end. "Is Dr. Washington available?...I need a consult on a patient of mine. Can he squeeze in about twenty minutes before he leaves?"

Daria lay on her side, her head propped up on one arm, while she read the book that Mr. O'Neil had assigned that day. She had already read it long ago, and could remember it well enough to write the report that O'Neill had assigned by the end of class. However she also remembered the last time that she had told him she'd already read the books on his assignment list.

Flipping a page, she pondered for a moment that she would have been more comfortable leaning against the headboard on her back. Glancing down at her abdomen, she winced at the thought of the backache she had gotten from the last time she did that. She hadn't been able to sleep on her stomach for the last few weeks either.

_Only about sixteen more weeks to go and I can finally sleep on my back for a change,_ Daria thought as someone knocked at the door.

"Daria? Do you have a moment?" Helen asked, opening the door partially and poking her head through.

"I suppose," Daria replied. "Tom's going to be here in a little while to take us over to Jane's. Then we're going to hang out with her and Nathan for a while.

"I see." Helen walked in and sat at the foot of the bed. "Are you sure you should be out at all hours of the night? Especially given that you're pregnant?"

"Don't worry, mom. Both Tom and Jane will be there, so I'll have the full detail of mother hens around for the night." Daria sighed. "I haven't had any problems so far, and I'm not going out of my way to look for them."

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Helen said slowly. The slight pause at the end made Daria turn to look at her mother. "Dr. Nelson and I spoke today, and she told me that she believes you're having problems accepting certain aspects of your pregnancy."

"She didn't!" Daria glared at Helen, then back at her book for a moment. "Dammit, I told her that everything was going fine! She didn't have any right to go over my head!"

"Daria, she's your doctor. She's supposed to be concerned about you."

"But there's nothing to be concerned about!"

"She thinks there is." Helen's voice remained steady and calm. "Daria, you've been to see her five times so far, and she took ultrasound pictures each time. However, we haven't seen a single one of them. Why is that?"

"I've been giving them to Jane."

"And why is _that_?"

_What, am I on a witness stand or something?_ Daria thought with a frown. "She's got some kind of special project going that she wants to give when the baby's born."

"So, what do the pictures look like?" Helen asked hopefully.

"I don't know, I haven't seen any of them. I didn't particularly feel the need." Daria closed her book and slowly sat up. "Are we done here, because I have to meet Tom and Jane."

"No, young lady, we are not done here." Helen turned to face her daughter more directly. "You aren't going anywhere until you give me a plausible, _believable _explanation."

"Okay, how many ultrasound pictures do you have of me and Quinn?" Daria asked reasonably.

"None, unfortunately. The technology wasn't as readily available back then as it is now." Helen sighed. "Believe me, if it had been, we would've had a stack of pictures a foot high. But that's not the point."

"No, the point is that I'm not reacting to any of this the way somebody like you or Aunt Rita or Erin or Aunt Amy would." Daria pointed out. "I'm reacting the way _I_ would."

"Exactly. The way _you _react to strong emotions is to pull back into that shell of yours. You did the same thing right before you started seeing Tom regularly."

"I also happen to recall coming to you for advice in that situation," Daria said as she shifted on the bed. Junior was sitting on her bladder again.

"I don't mean that night you kissed him, I mean after that."

"Oh."

Daria knew what Helen was talking about now. She remembered her conversation with Jane that night, and then her talk with Tom on the phone immediately afterwards. She had been so confused at the time, she hadn't come out of her room for three days except for the most perfunctory family contact at meals. Her main pillar of emotional support -- Jane -- had been kicked out from under her, and she was still convinced that she had been the one who had done the kicking. Tom had offered his own support in his own way, but somehow it had fallen short and it had been Daria who finally took the first steps to reconcile with Jane.

"Honey?" Helen asked quietly.

"Look, mom, I don't ..." Daria started, paused to take a deep breath, and started again. "I told Tom and Jane that not knowing certain things about all of this makes it easier to deal with. It was hard enough dealing with it as an intellectual exercise when _you _didn't know I was..."

"I see your point," Helen nodded sadly. "But this is reality now, not just theory."

"You're right, it's not. But it's still something that I have to handle on my own. Right now, that means keeping the concepts as simple as possible, and that means no pictures."

There were a couple of arguments that Helen considered using over the next few moments. One was how inconsiderate she was acting towards her and Jake by not getting the pictures. After all, they were going to be this child's grandparents and they had some right to know what was going on. Another was that these pictures were something that expectant mothers just _got_ over the course of their examinations and showed off to whomever was remotely interested.

"Daria, why don't you want the pictures?" Helen asked just as Dr. Nelson had coached her earlier.

"I just told you, I want to keep the concepts as simple as I can for now. They're going to get complicated enough later."

"Are you sure that's all?"

"Okay, Mrs. Kreskin, you seem to know something I don't here," Daria said flatly. "Why don't _you _tell _me _what the problem is?"

"All right then, young lady, I will." Helen cocked her eyebrow at her daughter. "I think that you're doing the equivalent of hiding in your room until it's all over."

"I am not!"

"Then why won't you bring any of the ultrasound pictures home?"

"Because I don't need you two acting like nervous grandparents every time I turn around, all right?" Daria said sharply, her last nerve fraying. "I need you guys to act like a normal mom and dad for a change! I don't need you acting like an over protective Doberman every time I sneeze and I don't need dad acting like Tom's Typhoid Mary every time he shows up, or talking to my stomach just because he thinks there's a little person in there!"

"But Daria, there is a little person in there, as you put it -- your child."

"_I know that!_ Dammit, mom, I haven't been going to an OB/GYN just because I've got gas, you know!"

"Okay, I know, but --"

"But nothing! We talked about all of this after you and dad had your big meltdowns -- I have to try and live as normal a life as I can if I'm going to get through this without you guys driving me nuts in the process. Right now that means no blasted ultrasound pictures! _All right!_"

"No, Daria, it's not all right." Helen was rather proud of herself as keeping her head together while Daria flipped out. Usually it was the other way around. "This is not something that's going to go away like a case of acne in another three or four months, Daria. This is the very beginning of something that's going to effect you for the rest of your life."

"Daria, Tom's here!" Quinn's voice drifted up from the first floor of the house.

"My ride's here," Daria said more calmly. "Can I go, or do you intend to ground me?"

"No, Daria, I have no intention of grounding you, just be back at a reasonable hour," Helen said as her daughter stood up. "But I do want you to think about what I said, all right? And maybe we'll talk a little later, when things aren't so hectic around here."

_Like that'll ever happen,_ Daria thought as she walked out of her bedroom, leaving her mother sitting on the bed, wondering if she had actually gotten anywhere.

Daria's mood hadn't improved any by the time she and Tom rendezvoused with Nathan and Jane at her house. Now that they were speeding down a street on the outskirts of town, it didn't seem that she was any closer to making an upturn. Nathan's car turned out to be a hard-topped convertible and he had removed the roof before setting out. Now Daria and Tom were in the back seat getting their hair blown all over the place while Jane and Nathan sat up front behind the relative protection of the windshield. Jane still had a scarf over her head to protect her hair and Nathan's fedora seemed to be clamped onto his skull with a will of it's own, ignoring the wind.

"Nathan, how the hell are you keeping that hat on?" Tom finally had to ask.

"Custom made, my man," Nathan said with a proud smirk. "It's all in the fit."

"And yet they can't find a cure for cancer," Daria said flatly, earning herself a nudge from Tom's elbow.

"Nathan actually owns a pair of pants that belonged to Sammy Davis Junior," Jane said, turning to look at Tom and Daria.

"Problem is, I can't wear them." Nathan raised an eyebrow. "They're a very strange shape."

"Then what do you put on when you want to take a sunrise and sprinkle it with dew?" Daria asked acidly, earning another elbow from Tom, who scrambled to make up for her vitriol.

"So, how'd you get interested in all of this, Nathan?" Tom asked hurriedly.

"Well, I've always dug the beauty and elegance of post-war American design." Nathan hadn't seemed to notice Daria's barb. "People had a sense of timeless style and civilized decorum back then. There was a social propriety about things, you know?"

"Oh yeah, the 'timeless style' of Cold War conformity and the 'civilized decorum' of segregation. Then there's the 'social propriety' of the National Guard escorting your kids to school." Daria arched an eyebrow. It seemed like this guy was out to push all of her buttons.

"Hey, I never said it was all steak and onions, but you didn't have to worry about your kid coming home pregnant either," Nathan said, matching Daria's cold look with one of his own. "No offense intended."

"Uh-huh." Daria's glare got harder. "Not like anyone back then would admit to having their daughter shipped of to the local home for wayward girls for nine months, either."

"If they had any respectability, they wouldn't have to worry about that problem to begin with."

Jane was giving Nathan a sidelong glare to rival the dirty look that Daria was giving him from the back seat. She was definitely going to have a talk with that boy later about how he was egging Daria on like that.

"Hey, there it is," Nathan said as a large, battered movie screen came into view. He was oblivious to the looks he was getting from his passengers.

A moment later, they were pulling into the drive in theaters parking / viewing lot. Weeds and grass poked through the cracks and holes in the old concrete. Faded lines denoted parking spaces that had been empty and unused for years.

"What movie are we seeing?" Tom asked, curious in spite of Nathan's lousy attitude.

"No movie," Nathan replied as he stopped the car. All four of them sat for a moment, just taking the atmosphere of the place in.

"Wow. Eerie." Jane looked at the decaying and rusted playground equipment that was spread out at the base of the screen. She had vague memories of playing here when she was in first or second grade, and the equipment hadn't been in much better shape back then. "Let's get out and poke around."

"This _is_ kind of bizarre," Tom agreed as he looked the place over.

"It ranks right up there with hairless cats, all right," Daria said, the prospect of exploring the old place didn't come close to countering Nathan's contemptuous attitude.

"Darn it," Nathan said as he looked around the parking lot.

"What?" Jane asked.

"We're the first ones here." He sounded a little dejected. "I wanted to make an entrance."

"First ones here?" Daria suppressed a groan as she heard the sound of car engines drown out the sounds of crickets and the wind through the grass. She turned and saw half a dozen vehicles that appeared to be of the same era as Nathan's pulling into the lot. "Oh god, it's night of the vintage threads."

"Hey, there's Charlece and Asher!" Nathan said as the lead car pulled to a stop nearby. Couples began climbing out of the cars as they stopped in random spots across the lot. "C'mon, Jane, I'll introduce you to the gang."

"There's a gang?" Daria resisted the urge to crawl under the seat, though she did try to pull her jacket a little tighter around the middle. She wasn't to thrilled with the thought of a crowd of these walking anachronisms passing judgment on her without so much as a second thought.

"But first, hair check!" Nathan removed his hat with a flourish and ran a comb through his slicked back hair with a practiced motion.

Daria turned away from Nathan and his primping, resisting the urge to grab Jane's handbag and clout her boyfriend across his well coiffed head. Instead, she watched as someone pulled a decidedly modern stereo from the back of the seat of his car. A press of a button later and the night air was filled with snappy, big band dance music. The response was immediate as couples paired off and stared jitterbugging across the lot. A few yards from the car, one pair even executed a complex move where one dancer flipped his partner over his head. She landed on her feet like a pro, and the continued dancing without missing a beat.

"Hey, that was pretty good," Tom said in admiration.

"Yeah, and I bet they didn't spend a good portion of their teen years practicing it either," Daria said sourly. _How the hell did I get talked into this?_

"Are you guys coming?" Jane asked as she opened the passenger door and climbed out.

"You mean outside?" Daria arched an eyebrow at her friend. "You're kidding, right?"

"Daria," Jane said warningly.

"Ah, leave 'em!" Nathan said with an exasperated waved of his hand. "Some people can't make the scene without clearing it with the PC police first!"

"Nathan," Jane warned her current boyfriend.

"Don't worry about it, Jane. Even if I wanted to, I'm in no shape for that kind of dancing." Daria rolled her eyes.

"Neither will Nathan by the time I'm done," Jane said with a harsh look at Nathan's retreating back. "Holler if you guys need something, okay?"

"Do you believe that guy?" Tom asked rhetorically as Jane walked off into the crowd. "For a second during the ride there I thought you were going to go for his throat!"

"Believe me, I'd like to strangle him with Sammy Davis' pants. Too bad Jane thinks he's 'swingin'.'" Daria looked glumly down at her boots. She tried to think of something more to say, but her emotions had caused a lump to form in her throat. She was blinking back tears that were rapidly building up.

"Daria?"

"That...How _dare_ he! How _dare_ that Mickey Spillane reject judge me by some antique set of standards that went out decades before he was even born!" Daria sniffed once and sat there, quietly seething.

"The guy's a jackass. There's no doubt about that. I think even Jane's starting to see it now, too." Tom scooted over and slipped his arm around Daria's shoulder. "Don't let him get to you, Daria. The jerk isn't even close to being worth the trouble."

"I used to think the same thing about you, you know," Daria sniffed with half a smirk.

"And see? You were right." Tom smiled back, seeing that it seemed to lighten Daria's mood a little.

"Okay, you got me there." Daria sighed. "And, yeah, logically I could care less what that guy thinks of me. But still..."

"Yeah, I know." Tom squeezed Daria's shoulders.

"You know, I wish the PC police were here," Daria said after a moment. "Maybe they'd give us a --"

Tom glanced over as Daria suddenly looked down at her abdomen with a curious expression on her face. She tentatively laid her hand on the curve of her stomach as her expression slowly changed to one of awe.

"Daria, is something wrong?" Tom asked, growing concerned.

"No, I..."

"What is it?"

"I think I just..." Daria swallowed. "No, I'm sure of it..."

"What?"

"The baby's..._moving!"_

"Really?" Tom gently laid his hand next to Daria's. "I don't feeling anything. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It really moved." As the sensation subsided, she tried to come up with some way to describe what she felt. But how could she describe something just barely above the threshold of her perceptions? "I don't know how to describe it."

"I think the look on your face just did," Tom said with his own smile as he hugged her shoulders.

_We're going to have a baby,_ Daria thought to herself. _I'm _really _going to have a baby!_

When Daria arrived home that night, she was dead tired. She didn't have the same energy levels she did five or six months ago. It was surprising at how much it took out of her to just get through a normal day anymore. Upon entering the house, she trudged over to the sofas where Amy was sitting with her feet up on the coffee table and a book in her lap.

"Hey, stranger," Amy greeted her niece as Daria plopped down onto the sofa with a groan. "Have a good night?"

"I suppose some aspects of this night could be considered good." Daria sounded exhausted. "They would balance out the parts that completely sucked."

"Something happen?" Amy looked at Daria over the rims of her glasses.

"Nathan's ethical standards are as antique as his car is, and just as rusted." Daria frowned. "I'd rather not talk about it right now."

_This doesn't sound good,_ Amy thought as she closed her book on her index finger to keep her place. "So what else happened?"

Daria was quiet for a minute as a small but genuine smile appeared on her lips.

"I felt the baby move for the first time."

"Oh wow," Amy said with a smile of her own. "I'd say that could offset quite a lot."

"I'll say." Daria looked down at her stomach and interlaced her fingers below the bulge, cupping it gently in her palms. "This really is happening, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah."

"So...where is everybody?"

"Helen's in the kitchen, trying to get caught up on some mondo case she was working on before her leave. Jake said something about entertaining a client and Quinn's out with her friends."

"So mom couldn't stay away from the office, huh?"

"She said that she'd been made the lead attorney since the first guy tried to sue some charity he thought was a tire company."

"Sounds like one of Eric Schrecter's screw ups," Daria said. "It's happened before when he's got too many things going on at once."

"Doesn't know his limits, huh?"

"More like he doesn't know how not to micromanage everything to death." Daria leaned her head back on the sofa and closed her eyes, enjoying the relative silence of the room after a night of big band music.

"Helen told me about your ultrasound pictures," Amy said quietly.

"You're not going to start on me about those things too, are you?" Daria opened one eye and fixed Amy with a baleful look.

"Nope. Seeing those things is entirely up to you. But I am wondering a little if this hasn't changed your mind about it some."

"Well, maybe a little." Daria lifted her head and opened her other eye. "It does kick the reality of the whole situation up a few levels."

"So, do you know what you're going to do?"

"Right at the moment ... no."

"Are you going to tell Helen?"

"Not right now, I don't think." Daria cast a glance back towards the entrance to the kitchen. "I'm not sure I want to become the focal point of her attention right now."

"Can't say I blame you" Amy opened her book back up and resumed her reading for a moment.

"Aunt Amy, do you think that I'm less, well, respectable because I got...well..." Daria just looked down at her stomach.

"What brought this up?"

"Something that Nathan said tonight." Daria frowned. "He said if girls had any respectability they wouldn't have problems like this."

"I see. Sounds like he was born about forty years too late. He'd have got along great with my mom." Amy closed her book again. "Personally, I wouldn't worry about him. Sooner or later, someone'll give him a big bite of a reality sandwich, and you watch what happens."

"I think I'll leave that up to Jane." Daria tried to stand up, but made it only a little way before dropping back to the sofa with a groan. "Is it just me or has the gravity been unusually high today?"

"Don't worry, Daria," Amy said as she stood up and took Daria's hands in hers. "Just three more months and the laws of gravity will return to normal and the Chaos Theory of Motherhood will take over. Now, one two three-heave!"

"I had a great time the other night," Jane said a couple of days later as she and Daria walked along the hall towards the lunchroom.

"Yeah, me too," Daria grumbled as she tried to look at her boots over her abdomen.

"Listen, um, I'm sorry about what Nathan said on the way out to the old drive-in," Jane said hesitantly.

"Don't worry about it. Besides, the night wasn't a total loss." The corner of Daria's mouth twitched upwards slightly.

"Something interesting happen while I was dancing on Nathan's toes with my high heels?"

"You could say that."

"Well, what happened?"

"I felt the baby move for the first time." Daria's Mona Lisa smile got more pronounced.

"And you didn't tell me?" Jane asked, incredulous. "Dammit woman!"

"Ladies!"

Both girls looked up and saw Charles dressed to the nines in a powder blue tuxedo, complete with a white carnation in his jacket lapel and white gloves. He was standing next to a card table in front of the principal's office, where Ms. Li was hovering over a roll of orange tickets and a cash box like a vulture over fresh carrion

"Come see a feat of legerdemain so dangerous that I've taken out an insurance policy on my body -- and my bodily fluids!" Charles held up a thick, legal looking document for the girls to see. "This Saturday night, I will be handcuffed, straight jacketed, and interred within an airtight, steel reinforced, military grade trunk. Then it's either escape or asphyxiate!"

"Do we get to pick?" Daria asked blandly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"All proceeds --" Li started to say, but was cut off by Charles clearing his throat loudly. "_Most_ proceeds benefit the special expenditures fund for embedding microchips in the gym equipment."

"Upchuck, bound and gagged," Daria mused. "I have to admit, that does sound entertaining."

"We'll take four tickets," Jane said as she pulled a couple of bills from her jacket pocket and handed them to Ms. Li.

"On behalf of pilfered basketballs everywhere, Ms. Lane, I'd like to say that's very school spirited of you!" Li pulled four tickets from the roll and passed them to Jane in exchange for the bills. Jane tore two of them off and passed them to Daria.

"Here, you ask Tom. I'll ask Nathan. My treat." Daria looked at the tickets sourly. "Don't worry about Nathan. I'll make sure he minds his p's and q's."

"Well, I guess," Daria said reluctantly as they turned to leave.

"Aha, an approaching trio of lovelies!" Upchuck said slickly as Daria and Jane were walking off. "It appears my magic mojo is working overtime!"

"God, he is such a ham," Jane said out of the side of her mouth.

"Hi Stacy, Quinn, Tiffany!"

Daria and Jane looked back over their shoulders in disbelief when the three former fashion club members actually returned Charles' greeting and stopped at the table.

"Hi. Rehearsal's still at six, right?" Stacy asked.

"Quite correct, my dear," Charles replied with a smile. "We'll get to use the auditorium tonight and tomorrow before our big performance."

"Don't worry, we'll be there," Quinn said.

"Are you sure that costume doesn't make me look fat? Tiffany asked predictably.

"Positive," Quinn said patiently. "Come on, guys, we've got to get to class. See ya, Upchuck."

"Okay, the fashion fiends are _helping _The Great Prosciutto?" Jane asked Daria in disbelief. "Have they been using expired blush?"

"I think it has to do more with Sandi and the dissolution of the fashion club than actually assisting Upchuck," Daria said as they resumed walking. "And it would explain why I saw Quinn doing a Vanna White imitation in front of her mirrors last night."

Trent opened the front door of the Lane house and about wished he knew where a pair of sunglasses was. Standing on the welcome mat was a young man wearing a jacket and suit with horrendously exaggerated shoulders and a wide brimmed hat to match. His entire ensemble was varying shades of the same color.

"Whoa, Canary Yellow!" Trent stepped back, blinking in spite of himself.

"Hi, I'm Nathan, Jane's escort for the evening. You must be Trent." Nathan extended his hand, which Trent shook. "It's great to finally meet you."

"Yeah, same here." _Jane's escort for the evening? Do people actually talk like that?_ Trent looked Nathan over with a cocked eyebrow. "You dress like that every day?"

"Sure. Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Dress like _that_ every day." Nathan gave Trent a similar looking over. "I mean, the sixties are over."

"Yeah, but the forties were over first."

"Maybe," Nathan said with half a smile. "But great style is timeless."

"That's just what I was going to say." Trent nodded. "Thanks."

"No, thank you." Nathan shook Trent's hand again.

"Janey's upstairs. End of the hall on the left."

"Thanks."

Nathan took the stairs at a brisk pace and followed Trent's directions right to Jane's room. He stepped up to the open door, peeked inside, and saw Jane wearing a blue dancing outfit that was just the right amount of nineteen fifty-four.

"This was so much easier when I had just one outfit," he heard her mutter to the mirror that was sitting on an easel in front of her.

He smiled to himself as he knocked on the doorframe.

"Yo." Jane looked up from her mirror as Nathan walked into the room.

"Hey gorgeous."

"Hey." Jane looked Nathan over as an excuse to dodge his attempt to kiss her. She was still a little peeved at him for what he had said about Daria earlier in the week. "Wow. You really do own a zoot suit!"

"Got to have something for special occasions," Nathan said as he helped himself to a seat on the end of the bed. Jane turned back to her mirror and made one more check of her dress while Nathan turned on the television.

"Trouble travels by trike!" The familiar voice of the Sick, Sad World announcer immediately blasted into the room. Jane turned and saw two tricycle-bound kids dismount their rides and start exchanging punches. "Under-age road rage, next on Sick, Sad World!"

"Ugh. How could anyone watch that crap!" Nathan said as he turned the TV off and tossed the remote back onto the bed. "The decline of modern civilization!"

"Exactly." Jane smiled as she stepped into her shoes.

"Ready to go?" Nathan asked expectantly. "The Tiki Tavern is going to be packed tonight."

"I bought tickets to see Upchuck the Irritating, remember?" Jane reminded him. "You know, first the freaky, then the tiki."

"Oh, come on! Magic is so old and corny!" Nathan protested. "Besides, the gang's expecting us in time for the floating ukulele review."

"I told Daria and Tom we'd be there," Jane said with a little more steel in her voice. "You know, _my_ gang? We talked about this the other night, remember?"

"Yean, I remember. And I'm sorry, but that Daria chick just curdles my stomach. That whole scene with those two just isn't my speed." Nathan glanced down at Jane and shook his head as he looked her over. "I don't know why I let you hang out with someone like her. Uh, you do know you're mixing forties shoes with a fifties dress, right?"

"Screw my clothes." Jane planted her fists on her hips. "Since when do I need you to 'let' me do anything? And just what the hell did you mean by someone like Daria?"

"She's barely eighteen and she's gotten herself pregnant, Jane, what do you think I mean? Can you honestly tell me that you're comfortable hanging around someone who couldn't keep her legs together?" Nathan shook his head. "I tell you, people today have absolutely no morals any more."

"Hey, Daria's the most straight up person I know!"

"How'd she get knocked up then? Wishful thinking?"

"She's been like a sister to me almost from the week she moved to this town," Jane said in an angry voice as her face slowly began to turn a hot red. "She's been my best friend, confidant, and a grade-A pain in the ass when necessary, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stand here and listen to you bad mouth her any more. Apologize, Nathan, right now."

"You want _me_ to apologize for _her_ being a skank?" Nathan couldn't believe his ears. "You're kidding, right?"

Jane's hand lashed out almost before she knew it was moving, and the sound of the slap seemed to take them both by surprise. Nathan jerked backwards quickly, causing his hat to fall forward over his eyes for a second. Jane snatched it off of his head before he had time to recover. She glared at him murderously and stood with the brim of his hat crushed in her fist.

"You sanctimonious son of a bitch!" Jane hissed through clenched teeth. "All I've ever heard out of you is how much better everything and everyone was way back when! Well, I'm sick of it! If you honestly cared it wouldn't matter what I ware or who my friends are!"

"If you had any values at all --"

"Get out of this house!"

"Fine." Nathan held out his hand. "Give me my hat."

Jane threw his hat on the floor and stomped on it once, squashing it flat before Nathan could pick it up.

"Phony," Jane spat as she kicked the flattened hat against his ankles.

"Dyke," Nathan shot back, snatching his damaged hat up.

Jane glared at Nathan's back as he stormed out of the room, trying to fix his flattened hat as he went. As soon as she heard his footsteps on the stairs, she sat down on her bead and flopped over on her back.

_Daria was _so _right about that guy! _Jane thought, rubbing her face with both hands and smearing her makeup. She held her hands in front of her face and looked at them critically. _This is so not me._

She sat up and grabbed a reasonably clean cloth from the supply box next to her easel. A few moments of vigorous wiping took care of the makeup on her hands and face. She ran her fingers through her hair and attempted to mold her hair back into it's usual style, but all the hair spray she'd had to use put up a stiff resistance.

_Oh well, that's almost me,_ Jane thought as she looked at herself in the mirror on her easel. _Close enough for right now._

"Hey, what happened to Nathan?" Trent asked, appearing at the door.

"Nathan who?" Jane sighed. "Forget him, Trent. It's over."

"Bummer."

"You're not going to say that we made a 'cute couple' are you?" Jane asked as her brother crossed the room.

"Nope."

"Good."

"I never thought he was your type anyway." Trent sat down next to his sister.

"What the hell is it with me, Trent?" Jane flopped back on the bed again. "How come the only people I keep attracting are self centered, self righteous jerks?"

Trent shrugged. "Tom was pretty cool."

"Tom ended up kissing my best friend." Jane sourly rolled her eyes. "Among other things he did."

"Well, what about Daria? She's not any of those things."

"Yeah, she knows me better than I know myself sometimes. She was dead on about Nathan too, dammit. "Jane pushed herself up on her elbows. "How the hell can someone that antisocial be so good at reading people?"

"Search me," Trent said as he stood back up and started to walk out. "Maybe that's why you like her so much."

"Maybe," Jane replied to a now empty room as she stood up from the bed and began to rummage around the room for her regular clothes. "Maybe I ought to start dating Daria. God knows I've done worse this month." Jane chuckled in genuine amusement. "Yeah, right. I can see it all now. 'Hey, Tom, I kissed your pregnant girlfriend.'"

Jane shook her head at the absurdity of that particular scenario as it played out in her mind. The whole time she was showering and getting re-dressed, however, a tiny voice in the back of her mind kept asking what would have been so wrong about that?

The high school auditorium was packed, Stacy saw as she peeked out from the edge of the stage curtain. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she stepped back to let Quinn have a look. Tiffany was minutely examining her costume in a nearby mirror, oblivious to her friends' nervous looks at the crowd.

"Wow, there isn't an empty seat in the house," Quinn said in quiet surprise. "Ms. Li didn't even have to threaten anyone this time."

"It didn't hurt that my father happened to donate the resources to help us advertise a little, either." Charles peeked over Quinn's shoulder at the crowd. "A few hundred flyers sure go a long way."

Charles stepped back from the curtain and adjusted the bow tie on his blue and white tuxedo as he looked over his three assistants. The girls wore identical outfits of blue and white to match Charles suit. Heels and a fluffy, feathered headpiece, all liberally covered with sequins and glitter completed each costume.

"I'm not sure that I can do this," Stacy said, breathing deeply to avoid a fit of hyperventilation.

"What are you talking about? This was your idea, you know!" Quinn planted her hands on her hips and gave Stacy a look.

"I know! But I didn't think there was going to be such a big crowd!" Stacy turned and looked out of the curtain again. Her eyes darted back and forth, desperately looking for an empty seat. Then her eyes fell on three seats by the center aisle. "Sandi's out there!"

"Where?" Quinn peeked briefly around Stacy's pointing finger. "Huh. She brought Brooke and Tori too. I really didn't expect them to show up at something like this."

"Well, young people," Ms Li said with her usual martial enthusiasm. "The hall is rented and the audience is seated. I trust that you will give an excellent performance!"

"Ready, willing and able," Charles said with a sly wink in Stacy's direction.

"Uh, yeah, ready." Stacy saw Charles' wink and was trying not to blush. "Really ready."

"Excellent! Places please for the main event!" Ms Li turned and headed for the opposite side of the stage.

"C'mon, Tiffany, we've got to get in place for our part!" Quinn took the other girl's arm and pulled her away from the mirror.

"This is such a cool costume!" Tiffany said as she was led off. "It's so sparkly! And it doesn't make me look fat!"

Charles and Stacy exchanged a glance and a chuckle as Ms Li walked through the curtain and addressed the audience.

"Welcome one and all! I'd like to thank Mr. Ruttheimer for supporting a most worthy cause..."

"Nervous?" Charles asked as Li droned on.

"Yeah," Stacy said bashfully.

"Don't worry, we're going to be fantastic!"

"...And now, Ruttheimer the Prestidigitator and his lovely assistant, Stacy!"

"Let's make some magic!" Charles said as the curtains split open in front of them.

Tom and Daria sat out in the audience and clapped politely with the rest of the crowd as Charles and Stacy walked out on stage. Daria risked a glance a couple of rows behind her where she had heard someone gasp as Stacy's name was announced. She saw Sandi sitting by the side aisle, arms folded and glaring death at the stage while the two girls next to her whispered to each other about something.

_What, did she expect Stacy to curl up and hide in her room?_ Daria thought as she turned back to the show. _I wonder where Quinn and Tiffany are?_

"Greetings, magic aficionados!" Charles said as he picked up a bulky looking straight jacket from atop a large trunk and slipped it on. Stacy took the overly long sleeves and began to cinch the jacket shut in the back. Charles turned slightly and winked. "Please be gentle, my sweet. I have a very sensitive...everything!"

"I hope I'm doing this right," Stacy stage whispered, concentrating on her job.

"No complaints on this end." Charles turned back to the audience as Stacy began fitting large chains in place around his arms. "Ladies and Gentlemen, as soon as I am fully bondaged, I will enter this steel reinforced trunk, which the lovely Stacy will close and lock. From the outside!"

As soon as Stacy clicked the last latch in place, Charles stepped over the edge of a large gray trunk in the middle of the stage. After he lay down inside, Stacy closed the lid and fixed the latches shut, finishing it off with a large padlock through a loop on the center latch. Looking down at her handiwork, she stepped back out of the way, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Oh no!" Stacy whispered loudly as concentration changed to worry. "I've forgotten what to do next!"

Daria shook her head. Somehow she knew that this wasn't going to end well from the moment they walked out on stage.

"Where do you think Jane and Nathan are?" Tom asked, looking over at the two empty seats next to Daria.

"Maybe the roadster ran out of jive juice," Daria suggested as she watched Stacy look more and more panicked by the second. She could hear Charles beginning to struggle harder inside the trunk. Looking down at her abdomen, she wondered if her unborn baby would feel something similar as it grew in the confined space.

"What's taking so long?" Ms Li looked impatient as she walked on stage and confronted Stacy. "I've already rented the auditorium out and the Single Scientologists will be here in less than an hour!"

"He was supposed to signal me!" Stacy's voice cracked as genuine fear began to set in. "Something's gone wrong!"

"Panic! Panic! I foresee a major hike in insurance premiums!"

"Not to mention another body to stash," Daria whispered to Tom.

"I hear the lake behind C'est la Veal is pretty good for that," Tom replied.

Onstage, Mr. DeMartino had come out of one of the wings carrying a large pry bar. He knelt by the trunk and began to wedge one end of it behind one of the latches.

"Why do _I_ always wind up bailing out the _naive_ or _incompetent_ when their ill-conceived plans _go awry!" _DeMartino grunted as he pushed on the bar.

"Just like a man to be there one minute and gone the next!" Ms Barch said as she walked out onstage and over to the trunk. She hauled her leg back and gave a mighty kick to the padlocked latch. When that failed to yield results, she started in on a series of them.

All of this finally turned out to be too much for Stacy. She left the stage and headed out into the aisles in an effort to get away from all the activity. She kept looking back at the stage as she tried to slip up the side aisle that Sandi, Brooke, and Tori happened to be sitting next to.

"You know, Stacy, it's just too tragic how you so completely embarrassed yourself up there," Sandi said with a sneer.

"Not to mention how you totally freaked out," Tori sniffed. "I mean, it's just Upchuck!"

"And Quinn and Tiffany aren't around anywhere to help you out," Brooke said as she looked around the crowd. "That must just suck for you."

"At least Upchuck's buried alive in there, so you won't have to get him back for embarrassing you in front of the whole school." Sandi cocked her eyebrow at Stacy. "Pity you'll have to spend the rest of your life seeking revenge on Quinn and Tiffany for abandoning you."

"Oh Sandi, you are _so_ naive!" Stacy's mood changed as if someone had flipped a switch, catching Sandi completely off guard.

"Huh?"

On stage, the center latch on the trunk popped open with a loud, sudden snap that made DeMartino and Barch jump backwards slightly. The lid sprang open and Quinn and Tiffany, dressed in outfits identical to Stacy's hopped to their feet and struck a pose for the crowd.

"TA-DAA!" The two of then sang.

"What?" DeMartino blinked at the sudden appearance of the two girls. "Where is he?"

"There!" The girls pointed to the opposite side of the auditorium from Stacy.

"_Shazam_!"

Heads all over the auditorium turned to look to the other side of the room at Charles, standing in the aisle with his arms outstretched in front of him.

"You know, I really thought he was in trouble up there," Tom said as Charles made his way back to the stage.

"Optimist." Daria smirked, then squinted momentarily at Charles. "Are those Sammy Davis' pants?"

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let's hear it for my lovely assistants: Quinn, Tiffany and especially Stacy and her Oscar worthy acting job!" Charles turned and held Stacy's hand in the air as the crowd applauded. "Your crocodile tears bring out the tiger in me! Rowrrr!"

Stacy blushed as she took her bows with her friends.

Forty five minutes later, the crowd was slowly filing out of the auditorium, Charles had held their attention with a wide array of slight of hand and illusion, making Quinn, Tiffany, and Stacy each disappear and reappear at various points of the show. For a finale, all four of them stepped into a large wooden crate that DeMartino had wheeled out. When the top was lifted off, the sides collapsed and none of them were anywhere to be found, at least until they came out from back stage.

"Well, you have to admit, that wasn't half bad," Tom was saying as he and Daria walked out slowly.

"Yeah, but which half?" Daria asked dryly. "I wish Jane had made it to the show."

"Speak of the devil," Tom said, spotting Jane approaching through the crowd and pointed her out to Daria. She was dressed in her usual red shirt, black T-shirt, shorts and leggings.

"Hey," Jane greeted them. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing good. Upchuck and the former fashion fiends seem to have survived," Daria replied with a smirk.

"So, where's Sir Swanky?" Tom asked, then winced. "Sorry, I mean --"

"Don't worry about it." Jane waved him off. "We broke up."

"No kidding," Daria said with a look at Jane's outfit.

"At least now I can admit that I didn't like him," Tom said.

"And if we get back together?" Jane cocked an eyebrow cattily.

"Aw crap!" Tom sighed, looking to the sky with a 'give me strength' expression.

"Relax, there's no way that's going to happen," Jane chuckled. "You were right, Daria. He turned out to be exactly the kind of jerk that you thought he was."

"I didn't feel like it was my place to point out that incredibly obvious fact," Daria said.

"Something I should have known when you didn't try to steal him away from me." Jane turned her eyebrow on Daria.

"Hey!" Tom and Daria took offence simultaneously.

"What?" Jane asked innocently, then dropped the expression after a second. "Maybe I did all that stuff because I was a little too eager to be hanging out with someone cool."

"You were right about fun being fun, too," Daria admitted. "I'm going to try to remember that on the off chance that I'm ever back in the shape to have some."

"I guess Nathan's good looks blinded me to the fact he was a total jackass."

"Well, you always did have a weakness for the cute ones." Daria turned and flashed her Mona Lisa smile affectionately at Tom, who blushed slightly.

Jane's own smile slipped through, along with the unbidden thought that she had a weakness for the smart ones as well.

"That was so _cool!"_ Stacy was still pumped from their performance with Charles.

"Yeah." Tiffany smiled at the memory of the applause they had gotten from the finale. "Stacy, you have got to teach me to cry like that!"

"Me too!" Quinn said as they left through the stage door. "That would come in so handy at home, and in a variety of social situations too!"

"Yeah," Stacy nodded in agreement. "Well, I suppose I could try. It's just something I've always been able to do."

"Well, look at this. Upchuck's bunnies."

The three girls turned around and saw Sandi walking up behind them, her face set in an angry glare and her fists clenched at her sides.

"Uh, hi Sandi," Stacy said. They'd all seen that look before and knew this couldn't be good.

"Well, I hope the three of you are happy now!" Sandi snapped.

"What do you mean, Sandi?" Quinn asked.

"Save the innocent act, Quinn, you did it to me again!" Sandi walked right up to Quinn and stood barely a foot away. "Now all everyone's talking about is that stupid freaking magic act! Brooke and Tori won't shut up about how you three looked _so cute--"_ The words came out as a sneer -- "in your little blue outfits!"

"So? That was the idea." Quinn decided to try a tactic that Daria had suggested some time earlier. "By tomorrow they'll find something else to talk about and everything will be back to normal."

"No it won't! It won't be back to normal for me!" Sandi practically yelled. "You're doing it again, Quinn! You're screwing up my life and stealing my friends just like you did before!"

"I didn't steal anyone, Sandi," Quinn sighed. "You turned your back on us on your own."

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did, and all because we wouldn't take your side against my sister because you got a bad grade on a test she gave." Quinn pointed out calmly. "It went way, way, _way_, too far, and when we wouldn't back you up, you blamed us."

"You're lying!"

"No, she's not, Sandi," Tiffany said sadly. "It's like what happened with Andrea when we were kids. She wouldn't do what you wanted and you started ignoring her."

"I...She..." Sandi stammered for a moment. "Don't you _dare_ talk about that _bitch_ to me! She deserved what she got!"

"No, she didn't. And we don't deserve this."

"Yes you do. Both you and Stacy do," Sandi said with finality. She glared at Quinn. "I hope you're happy, Quinn. You've cost me everything and I'm never going to forgive you for it."

Sandi turned and stalked angrily off across the grass towards the school parking lot. Quinn watched her leave, feeling somewhat confused about what to do next.

"Shouldn't we go after her or something?" Stacy asked hesitantly.

"I don't think it would matter," Quinn replied with a sad sigh. "I guess the Fashion Club really _is _dead."

"Yeah, I guess so," Tiffany said quietly.

"I'm sorry guys. I guess I kind of caused all of this."

"It's not your fault, Quinn," Stacy said.

"Yeah, Quinn. Don't worry about it." Tiffany affirmed.

"So, if you guys don't mind me asking, what happened with Andrea?" Quinn asked hesitantly. "I mean I know that you guys used to be friends, but..."

"Well, that's kind of a long story," Stacy said as the three of them slowly resumed walking.

"Yeah, and we kind of promised her that we wouldn't talk about it," Tiffany said.

"Sandi?" Quinn asked.

"No. Andrea."

"Eighty, ninety, a hundred," Jane counted out the new ten dollar bills as she and Daria walked out of the clothing store. She knew that _Christy's Closet_ always bought old clothes from the forties and fifties and then resold them later. All of the stuff she took in with her would surely find good homes.

"Not too bad, considering that most of those clothes came from the attic." Jane smiled as she tucked the bills into her hip pocket. "Guess the 'beauty and elegance' of old clothes is worth something after all."

"So, how do you feel about the beauty and elegance of a post war American pizza?" Daria asked as they started up the street.

"I guess I'm buying, since I've got the hundred bucks,"

"Jane," Daria started hesitantly. "You still have the ultrasound pictures that I gave you, right?"

"Yeah, I've been putting them in an album, actually." Jane looked over at her friend. "You want to see them?"

"You sound like you've been expecting me to ask for them sooner or later." Daria met her friend's look.

"Well, I figured that curiosity would win out eventually." Jane smiled. "That, or maternal instinct."

"Yeah, right. I've got all the maternal instinct of a meat loaf."

"So, what brings this on?"

"The night that I felt the movement, for starters." Daria admitted. "The more I thought about it, the less I could really look at it as some kind of exercise, so I figured why not embrace the madness?"

"I knew that the famous Morgendorffer logic would work its way around to this sooner or later." Jane smiled. "C'mon. Food first, then over to my place for pictures."

"Sounds like a plan."

Jane looked at her friend for a moment as they walked. This felt right, she thought. With her best friend at her side, Jane felt like there wasn't a problem in the world that she couldn't work past, or couldn't be handled in typical damn-the-torpedoes Jane Lane style.

"Hey, Daria?"

"Yeah?"

Jane opened her mouth . . . and found that the words just didn't want to come out. When she didn't say anything, Daria looked over at her friend with a concerned expression.

"What is it?"

"Never mind, amiga," Jane said with her own slight smile. "It'll keep."

to be continued...

_**Author's Notes:**_

Well, there's not much in the way of notes or comments this time around, in spite of the time it took to finish. Thanks and Props go out to those who Beta Read for me (in no particular order)-- E.A. Smith, Olivier Milde Steven Galloway, and Prince Charon.

The Common point that everyone turned their attention was that of Jane and her questioning her sexual orientation. I want to point out that this is not as out of the blue as everyone seemed to believe. Jane actually started thinking along these lines in two different sections of the previous story, "A Tale of Two T's." The first time, when she was mentally filling in the details of her "special project" painting where she saw her face in place of Tom's. The second was during Jane and Daria's telephone conversation -- while she was sketching, Jane drew Alison's likeness and Daria's clothes and glasses. (The idea being that Alison's image popping up represented what Jane was trying to figure out, but was avoiding facing directly.)

E.A. Smith also pointed out that the Daria / Jane paring is a bit overused as a plot device. While it does lend itself to some excellent stories, it is not the direction that I'm planning on taking. Daria does make a logical object for Jane's affections, and vice versa. That does not mean that Jane is going to make any advances, or that Daria would respond favorably if she did. Jane's a smart lady and she knows this. (No, she's not going to go after Quinn either. Sorry.) However, Jane's story is just starting out, even though it is comparatively late in the series, and it still has a ways to go.

Well, I guess that's all there is for this installment. As usual, please send any questions or comments to I hope you enjoyed the story and thank you all for sticking with it. See you next time!


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